The Aspect of Fire - Book II - Skyfall
by mivpus
Summary: [Sequel to 'The Aspect of Fire - Book I - Careful what you wish for'] Roku and Thomas together stopped Nazara and Saren, thus postponing the invasion of the galaxy. Now, as the Harbinger makes his next move, the remainders of the Normandy's ground-team attempts to recover from the attack on their ship. Meanwhile, a Deep-Space mining-vessel goes dark.
1. Chapter 1

**This is it. Book Two is here. **

**I hope this one will be just as fun to do as Book I was. **

* * *

The Aspect of Fire

Book II - Skyfall

* * *

**Aspect of Change**

* * *

_I don't know how long I have, how long we have… which makes using a recorder much more… it makes it easier… fuck, I'm just nervous, is all… I hope…_

_Okay, so… I haven't done one of these since the mission to Virmire, and I lost my recorder there when my Omnitool went to hell… back on track. We're going… going _there_, and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do now. I've told Jane what is waiting, so… do I just wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

_There's… the chance, that things go really, really bad. That people might die… that _I_ might die. Funny, once, this used to be… I dunno, just… different. But, I'm recording this, and everything else I can think of, in case my fears are right. I don't know if I should name them, like naming a nightmare, which usually would be a good thing, but…huh… okay. So… from what I've been able to gather so far, there's the risk that the Collectors might be going after _me_, not Jane or John…_

_Neither of them killed Saren, or blew up Sovereign, and… fuck, what do I do?_

_We're near the system now… the system where it could all go so far to Hell that… I can't even think of a metaphor. So, I suppose this is where I spill all the beans, come clean with all my secrets and emotional shit and… damn, I'm not good at this kind of stuff, confessing to a mike while hiding by the brig. Hehehe… I remember keeping Jacob locked up here, right next to me… I wonder if he's still alive._

_So… for starters, and to get past the obvious: Ash, if you find this, and I died or… I love you. I love you, Ashley Madeline Williams, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't know if that means marriage or just being with you. It doesn't matter, not to me, as long as I can be with you… oh crap, don't start cho- choking up now… _

_Ashley, since the day I first met you… you've been… been my guardian angel, the light of my life. You never betrayed my trust, and always seemed to trust me, even back when I still held secrets from you. I could always tell you about my problems, what troubled me… and now, if… no. No, we're going to make this. I have a special question for you, but… but I'll hold onto it for now. That'll be all, Chief Williams._

_Okay… next… to all my friends on the Normandy._

_Serving with you have been the best time of my life, regardless of the fucked up shit that happened during so. I know, that we lost people, good people. Sev… Scorch, Boss, I know you miss him. We all do. Sev was… more brave than any one of us, and… more than just a clone. He was a valued comrade, just like Fixer was… _

_Garrus… Garrus was… Gods, he was one of my best friends, and… a part of me knows that… feels that it was my fault he died. If I'd just been faster… What we can do, is to make sure no more people die. I… … … I don't know if that came onto the recorder, but Joker just announced we entered the Amada-system… this is it. Maybe I should… say a prayer…_

_For my deeds, Talos protect me_

_For my deeds bad, Mara forgive me_

_For my deeds good, Stendarr preserve me_

_And should I die, Arkay guide me._

_Service Chief Thomas Vestergaard Fisher, Alliance Marines - December 21__th__, 2183_

* * *

December 21st

SSV Normandy

Deck 3. Gym, brig and crew quarters.

18:28

Thomas groaned, getting to his feet by the brig. He, as well as most of the ground crew, was wearing armor and suit instead of uniforms. He worried that Roku, who might try to fulfil the task his master had given him, would sense that Shepard, both of them, knew what was wrong. Thomas just hoped the aspect would write it off as caution, going into a system with multiple missing ships.

Turning his Omnitool off, he took his right index finger and thumb up, touching the small hammer around his neck. Ashley had given it to him, on the last date they had before shipping out for the current mission. In a way, he felt it provided him with some base good luck.

He was alone on the deck, not even the usual crewmen standing around, chatting and enjoying their shifts being done for the day, or night, depending on luck. He had tried pulling nightshift once, with Hillary… Gods, was that a shitty way to spend the night; sitting up, downing six cups of coffee, trying to explain the bending and breaking of science and reality to a confused and tired woman.

As he walked for the lift, Thomas felt his legs starting to buckle beneath him, shake as if he hadn't eaten in days. It wasn't lack of food though, but anxiousness that was settling in. Thomas had full confidence in Joker being able to outrun the Collectors, if he actually had a notion they were capable of peeking through the stealth-field around the Normandy.

Thomas _really_ hoped he did.

As the lift came to a stop one deck above, at the mess hall, he stepped out while feeling ready to both drop dead and jump high. Each second brought him both more adrenaline, coursing through his veins, and more fatigue, as the knowledge of what might happen. Roku, once more, surfaced in his thoughts.

What the hell was he going to do, if Roku really wanted one of the Shepards dead?

"Hey Chief." He was brought from more dark thoughts by Hillary, the private now armored in her trademark pink-and-white phase-II armor. She had definitely started warming back up towards him, and Nicolai, Jane and the rest of the people responsible for breaking reality. Still, he knew to be wary of what he said, as she still had no clue that he knew it all as a game, back then.

"Hey Hillary." He responded. She blinked at the informal words, trained to address superiors with rank and surname only; "What're you doing?"

"Waiting." She said, looking at the table. While Thomas doubted she had been told of what was impending exactly, they had all been told to suit up, just in case. Maybe she was nervous?

"For…?" He urged as he leaned against the wall next to her.

"I dunno… some sort of shit, I suppose. Hell, ten ships were lost out here, you bet I'm concerned."

"Ah…" He nodded, then stopped. Could he tell Hillary what was going to happen? What would she do, how would she react to it? Would it make a difference for the better or worse?

"You know, I still remember back on Eden Prime, how we picked your scorched ass from the grass." She then said, chuckling lightly at the memory. Thomas was tempted to reply that he too, had picked _her_ scorched ass from Eden Prime, but decided not to. For Hillary, what happened on that planet was still fresh in mind, as she had been sleeping through most of the campaign.

"You do?" He ended up asking instead.

"Yeah… Donkey had just shared his wisdom that we were going to have some shitty weather…" She said, and as she spoke, her smile faltered and became a thin line; "… I can't believe they are all gone…"

"I'm sorry…" Thomas said, and what else _could _he say? Sure, he missed them as well, but knew that it was just as much his fault that they had died, and so he had no right to say he missed them too.

"It's just the three of us left now…" She muttered, and blew a puff of air into her hair, blonde locks dancing at the gust of wind; "The guys… were they buried?"

Thomas winced at the question, as he knew perfectly well what had most likely happened to them, to his, Ashley's and Hillary's friend and team-mates. They were probably Husks now, roaming the countryside of Eden Prime, or just lying as corpses, gunned down by Alliance teams.

"I… don't know."

"So… they became _those_ things, huh?" She muttered, looking down at her hands; "Jimmy, Mikhail… Bolin, Donkey… everyone?" Thomas winced once more, this time as he was taken aback by the direct question. No point in lying to her, then.

"I guess so…"

"…Figures…" She muttered, clenching a fist beneath the table. Thomas looked around for a subject of conversation, as he was really uncomfortable with the one reminding him of his greatest mistake so far: To let Dog-Squad be slaughtered.

"I'm heading up to the CIC… wanna come?" He said. He really _did_ need to get going, as they were in the system where the Collectors might be waiting. He wasn't going to be caught unaware, or to risk Joker making the same mistakes. If push came to shove, he would kick both John and Jane into the escape pods, then haul Joker's crippled ass into the one next to the cockpit. If Roku tried anything… things would get nasty. Hillary blew out a sigh and stood;

"Might as well…" She said with little enthusiasm. Thomas pushed out from the wall and walked next to her as they headed up the stairs. He felt more and more anxious as time passed, and as they emerged in the CIC, he saw Jane and John stand in conversation near the map, the rest of the ground crew standing around elsewhere on the bridge, or waiting in the briefing room. Tali, of course, was still in engineering, and Nicolai was down in the hangar, working on his weapons.

With a nod to the Shepards, Thomas left Hillary at the CIC and continued up towards the cockpit. Here, he was surprised to find that Roku was standing behind Joker's chair, arms crossed. The geth turned its head and gave Thomas a brief look, then looked back at Joker.

"So, you ever do the robot?" Joker asked, not looking up from his systems.

"…No."

"Oh come on! Why not?"

"I have no interest in fulfilling one of your juvenile fantasies, Joker. Your Asari - Hanar files should be adequate." Roku stated with close to no emotion in his voice.

"But you have the epic body for it!"

"No."

"Dammit…" Joker muttered, returning attention to his displays and panels; "Alright, the board is green; we're running silent."

"We're wasting our time. Turian ships already combed this place over four times, and they haven't found any sign of geth or pirate activity, Reaper-ships included." Pressley huffed annoyed, tapping in commands on his datapad as he walked up next to the cockpit. Thomas repressed a wince as he found the sentence far too familiar for comfort.

"Ten ships went missing here the past month. Something happened to 'em." Joker replied, not taking his eyes off of the displays. The feeling of dread that Thomas had noticed earlier, had now started settling completely over him. Roku turned his head to look at him, pedals flat against the head, as if silently expressing sympathy or an apology; "Besides, cap said it might not even be any of those baddies out here."

"My money are still on slavers. The Terminus are crawling with them." Pressley betted, entering a new set of commands on his datapad. The timeline was horrifyingly restored as the female ensign in the chair next to Joker's, received a new signal.

"Picking up something on the long-range scanner…unidentified vessel. Hmm, looks like a cruiser…" Even as the woman spoke, alarming _beeps_ started calling out from her console.

"Doesn't match any known signatures…" Joker muttered. Thomas stared straight into the optical lens of Roku, mustering every ounce of willpower he could.

"What are you going to do?" He asked in a low tone.

"…Ensure that what must happen, happens…" The aspect said, though he sounded none too pleased about it. Thomas clenched his fists, feeling his teeth grit.

"I'm not going to let you do it, Roku." He muttered with a strained voice, even as more alarms started going off.

"Cruiser is changing course… now on intercept trajectory." The ensign said, mild confusion in her voice.

"Can't be. Stealth-systems are engaged, there's no way a geth ship could possibly-" Pressley started, hands dancing over multiple systems and displays as he tried finding the error. Joker though, cut him short;

"It's not the geth! E.T baddies inbound!" the pilot shouted, activating alarms within the ship. Thomas felt his stomach churn as Joker sent the Normandy into a relatively vertical descend; "All hands, it's the new guys!"

The vertical descend Joker kicked the Normandy into, was proven to save lives as a beam of sickly, yellow particles carved through space just where the Normandy had been only moments earlier.

"To your posts! Battle stations!" Pressley shouted, opening up ship-wide comms; "All hands, man your stations! We're under attack from a heavily armed unknown enemy!"

The ship became a living chaos at that, with the crew running to their posts, to their equipment to be somewhere they were overall useful. The ground crew was on its way down to the second deck already, a few of them aware that they would soon lose the Normandy, if things came to pass.

The second attack came right after the first, this time aimed with far more lethal precision.

The beam carved into the armored hull of the Normandy, only briefly stopped by the barriers and shielding that was supposed to block all but a direct barrage from even cruisers. The plating was torn to shreds above them, causing the kinetic barriers to spring to life, only to overheat an instant later. Panels started exploding around them as Thomas gripped the wall for a hold, seeing Roku do the same.

"Joker! Jump out of the system! NOW!" Thomas yelled.

"I'm trying! The engines-"

"I SAID NOW YOU CRIPPLED JACKASS!" Thomas now nearly screamed, feeling adrenaline pump through his body with each lurch and tremble going through the ship. Just then, a new series of explosions went through the bridge and cockpit, and a blast sent Pressley flying into the opposite wall, out cold.

"Presley!" The ensign shouted, getting up from her chair to help the man, just as a new beam washed over the Normandy, carving off the right wing and essentially leaving it dead in the water. The resulting explosion blasted the woman off her feet, and straight into the wall. As she hit, a wet, disgusting crack could be heard as her neck broke, killing her on the spot.

"Where's the Captain?!" Joker yelled as a crewmember started putting out a fire that had broken out at the dead ensigns post.

"I think she's launching the distress-beacon, down on deck 2!" The man yelled. Thomas fought to remain standing as Joker desperately tried maneuvering the Normandy out of harm's way. Only, with just half the wings left, it was a futile effort.

"Roku! Get down there and help her!" Thomas yelled as he yanked the unconscious Presley onto his shoulders; "And by Talos, if I find out you did something…" the unspoken threat was enough to make the aspect pause, as Thomas slammed the button for the escape pod.

"Good luck." Roku said, then was off down the hallway to the CIC. Thomas sneered in frustration, the situation being so much more overwhelming than he had ever thought it could be. Constant fire, alarm, explosions and trembling groans as the ship was carved apart by the Collector vessel. As he placed the unconscious navigator roughly in a seat, the alarms sounded, signaling for evac.

'Abandon ship', was a signal even he knew.

Now he just needed to haul joker out of the cockpit, into an escape pod and wait for either John or Jane to show up, then promptly shove the Shepard into the escape pod as well. In the background, Joker started yelling, even as a new blast tore straight through the hull above the CIC, opening up to the open, cold and dead void. Thomas, in raw panic at the sight, slammed the side of his own helmet, activating the armor's air-supply. As the air was sucked from the CIC, so was everything not welded down.

Crewmembers included...

As he saw the silent trashing of the remaining crewmembers being sucked into space, he prayed his ten minutes of air would be enough. Next to him, the moment the hull had been breached on the bridge, a blue barrier had sprung up, sealing off the cockpit from the void. The magnetic soles in his boots kept him grounded, as a voice sprung into his helmet's comms;

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the SSV Normandy!" Joker's panicked voice was the only sound Thomas could hear now, as even the brilliant explosions around him made no sound at all, only small ripples in their own pockets of released air as the fires came into being and instantly were snuffed again._ I have to get Joker to the pod before anyone dies! Oh fuck, this is so wrong!_

"We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy!" Joker shouted again, and Thomas had no choice but to recall the exact same sentence from the game. He knew what would follow now, and had no longer any time left to waste.

Pulling each step from the floor, he stomped into the cockpit, where the pilot was frantically trying to save his ship;

"Come one, Baby! Hold togeth-!" Joker was begging his ship not to die on him, not that the Collectors would answer his prayer though. Thomas made it to the pilot before he finished his sentence.

"Joker! Get to the escape pod!" Thomas yelled, yanking the pilot's shoulder hard enough that he normally would have worried about breaking something. Now though, he didn't give a shit.

"No! I'm not losing the Normandy! I can still-" Thomas cut him off by grabbing the man with his bionic hand, pulling him violently from his chair even as the cripple protested and yelled in pain.

"Let go of me! I can save the Normandy, just let me-!"

"Joker! The Normandy's a wreck! I'm perfectly willing to let you kill yourself afterwards, but get to the fucking escape-pod!" Thomas yelled desperately, not letting up on his forced march with the pilot. If he could just kick Joker into the pod, then the same with whomever was coming, he could avoid whatever sick twist Roku's "master" was planning. _I can do this! I can do this!_

"Auw! You don't have to break my arm!" Joker protested as he was roughly shoved into the pod, landing on the floor of the small craft with a thud and a few breaking noises, likely his legs. Hopefully… Still, the agonizing yelps indicated it was more serious…

"Thomas!" He snapped to the right at the voice, seeing John walking towards him by way of mag-boots. The Quarian was already fully armored, meaning Jane must have told him to be ready; "What-"

"John! Where's Ashle- Where's Jane?" He demanded, giving hell in chain of command for the moment. He needed to do this, and he just had to pray Roku would at least keep Ashley safe. He had to.

"She sent the beacon and went to engineering to make sure everyone was out. Where's Joker?"

"In the escape-pod. Now _please_ get in too!" Thomas begged, feeling hiss blood almost boil. John nodded and headed for the pod.

If one could hear in space, Thomas would have been no less horrified or surprised as a new beam, radiating malice, carved through the Normandy altogether, severing the forward bridge from the rest of the CIC. Almost in slow-motion, he saw the shockwave slam John into a wall, then back off as the Normandy trembled even more violently, smacking the Quarian away from the wall. _NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!_

Shutting the escape-pod's hatch, Thomas leapt from the floor, after John. The Commander was unconscious it seemed, floating calmly away from the ship, even as more explosions racked the vessel. In the near distance, Thomas saw the blue trails from the escape-pods as they shot out from the ship, leaving the burning husk that had once been home.

"JOHN!"

"There was no response to his call, and Thomas tried to grasp for the limp Quarian's hand, fingers dancing only inches from those of the Quarian's. _Why didn't Roku ever teach me to fucking fly!? Come on! Come on!_

He tried to will everything he had left of energy into his feet, praying to every single god and divine being that he could just this once manage to fly. He only just need to do it to get John and get back to the ship. _I just have to get him! Please! Talos! Akatosh! Mara! Help me goddammit! _

He was getting closer now, close enough to see small wafts of oxygen, visible as gaseous or steamy air, streamed from the back of John's armor. The impact with the wall had damaged the suit's air-supply somehow. _Oh gods no! No no no nonono!_

"Come on you bastard!" He yelled through building tears. No matter what he did, John remained out of reach, and no fire came to his feet. He could only kick and scream as he saw the commander slowly drift ahead of him, towards the surface of the ice-covered planet. A planet Thomas right now wanted nothing less than to nuke on a global scale, simply for the crime of existing.

"No! No! NOOO! John!" tears fell from his eyes, floating in the small space inside his helmet. He screamed without sound as he felt John, his commander and friend, remain out of reach and float further and further away; "COME ON YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Fire suddenly sprung from his feet, catapulting Thomas forward through the void with substantial speed. He was so shocked and surprised at this, that he remained in the middle of accursing the universe, even as he gained on the unconscious Quarian. Quickly however, he got over the surprise. _Finally! Come on! I'm not letting this happen!_

Boosted by the fiery jets of emerald springing from the soles of his boots, Thomas sped towards the Quarian, reaching a hand out to grab him. It was only when he closed in to almost being able to touch his friend, that Thomas realized something that made the blood freeze in his veins: he had no idea what to do when he _did_ catch John.

Currently though, all his effort was directed at getting to John, now only a few meters away. Tears were still floating in the small space of his helmet, occasionally splashing wet warmth against his skin or eyes when he moved his face. He was so close, just a meter now. He could reach out for John now. _Nearly there!_

He reached out and grabbed John's wrist, using his bionic hand to keep a tight grip on the Quarian, as he started using the right hand to spew out fire, directing towards aid the best he could.

Suddenly, the problem ceased to be finding a place to land, a safe place. Maybe he could have found the Kodiak-shuttle, forced it open and sought refuge there. But what happened then, was outside his immediate ability to process.

A form, a shape that was almost human, appeared in the void, hovering just in front of him.

"What in…" Thomas started, unable to understand what was in front of him, before him. It was, by all accounts, a Collector. Only, it wasn't. This, was a Collector, but with azure skin, ornamental clothing, almost like armor, and a quad of eyes with twin-linked pupils, glaring at him with a stern expression.

"_I see Roku failed. No matter, it was to be expected."_ The entity stated, looking at Thomas like he had done the… thing, aspect maybe, a personal insult. Thomas still had absolutely no clue what or who the hell he was looking at, only that his own air supply was rapidly dwindling.

"Wha…" Thomas mouthed, trying to speak as the talking Collector made a casual, sweeping movement with his, _its_ hands. Instantly, Thomas felt his arms, his entire body, completely lose control. The blood stopped in his veins, and his muscles went into spasms, causing pain to wash over him as well as nausea.

"_You are important… you shall live."_

"Whaaa- What the- Fuck!" He groaned and cried in frustration and agony. He had no control at all. His own body was releasing John from safety, even going as far as shoving the Quarian away, towards Alchera; "JO- JOHN!"

Thomas couldn't even find any power to attempt catching John again. He was held, floating in space as he watched John drift away from him. Tears were streaming from his eyes as the Quarian became smaller and smaller against the icy planet. _NO NO NO! NO PLEASE GOD! DIVINES! GODS! JESUS, HELP ME!_

He had no idea who the entity was, or why it would, _could_ be thís cruel. He had _had_ him. Gods be damned, he'd _had_ John right there. He had saved him!

"_Sleep, young mortal. Sleep and be safe. Time has been restored once more, and all is as it should be."_

Thomas wanted to scream, to grab a hold of whatever the thing, the Collector or whatever the hell it was, and tear out its eyes, one at a time. He wanted to make it suffer. The bastard had just doomed John, doomed him to fall to his death on the shitty world of Alchera, and there was nothing Thomas could do about it now.

"_Sleep. Sleep and forget."_ The second time the being spoke, the word had so much more command to it, that Thomas had no choice, but to comply. His body started shutting down even as he protested and wept, trying to maintain eyes on John as the commander became a small speck against the planet._ No… no please…_

* * *

Normandy Escape Pod 2

18:59

Ashley worked desperately at getting the scanners to work. She had called around to the other pods, ending up with the one Joker and Pressley were in, and all gave the same response.

Thomas wasn't there.

She knew he had to be alive. He had already survived so much worse than this, there was no way he would die now. Not like this. She just had to find him. Next to her, Liara knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Ashley knew it was an attempt at providing some comfort, but God dammit, couldn't the Asari see she just needed some space to get the fucking apparatus working?

"Ashley…"

"What!?" She snapped, not bothering to look away from her work. This was more important than offering Liara a burning glare. The Asari could go stuff her sympathies for all she cared. She didn't need them, because Thomas was _alive._

"Are you… well?"

"You know how to operate a Languor Mark Five close-range scanner?" Ashley snapped again, causing Liara to frown. Scorch was in the pod, so at least the Asari knew _her_ boyfriend was safe. Ashley knew Thomas was safe too, she just had to _find_ him.

"I… no. I do not know how to operate sensitive equipment like this. But Thomas will make it, I know it."

"OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT!" Ashley shouted, snapping at the relatively younger woman with all the pent-up frustration and anger in her. The feeling of panic from the destruction of the Normandy had been completely replaced by anger and desperation as she could account for all but two members of the ground team.

"Ashley. Liara is just trying to help. Shout at me if you have to, but don't vent on her." Jane said from her place in one of the seats, wearing a phase-II set of armor. Her Bulwark had been lost in the explosion, seeing how she would have never been able to fit it in a pod-chair, nor leave any actual room for the others.

"Where the fuck is Roku when you need him…" Ashley growled, hitting the panel in front of her with a fist. Instead of getting a response from the geth-platform, she received the signal that the scanner was finally online and searching; "Finally…"

"Captain, do we know the whereabouts of all members of the team?" Boss asked from his seat. He was keeping a remarkably calm expression, looking like he was calculating and processing the recent events, instead of panicking. Ashley, even in her rage and frustration, couldn't help but see the look of defeat on the red-head's face.

"We have no idea where both Fisher and John is… so far, the death-toll is confirmed to ten of the engineers, Tali thankfully excluded, as well as almost the entire bridge-crew… God, why didn't I prevent this?"

"Because you can be a bloody moron at times." Ashley was surprised at her own words, but continued even as her eyes remained on the scanner, praying to see, if not two, then at least the _one_ life-signature she needed to see; "And the emotional part of me wants to punch you in the floor for… a lot of things. Now shut it, I'm trying to look for a signal."

"Thank you, for your loyalty and support, Williams." Jane grumbled, though kept it at thát, likely knowing that the Gunnery Chief was nowhere near in the mood for anything but hard facts. Insulting her would mean starting a fight in an escape-pod.

"I said _shut it_, ma'am. I need-" Ashley was interrupted by a sudden _ping_ that came in on the small display in front of her, hunched over as she was. She brought up the display, and was presented with the radar-layout for their immediate surroundings. The screen showed her _one_ ping, one dot of life that was merely a hundred meters away. Instantly, she brought up the visual displays from the exterior cameras.

"Williams?" Boss asked. Ashley could feel her heart almost hammer its way through her armor.

"I found him! Thank you God! Thank you!" She cried, staring at the still, but living figure of a human marine in a green-tinted phase-II suit. It had scorches, yes, but it was intact.

"Fisher?" Jane asked. Ashley wasn't going to waste time answering that, and instead began going through manual controls for the pod. Each escape-pod was equipped with enough fuel to navigate away from potentially hazardous areas, like an exploding starship, and could be manually controlled by even a toddler.

"If you have located the Service Chief…" Boss started, a solemn and saddened expression on his face.

"I don't think Tali will like this…" Scorch finished. His expression was much more emotional and unguarded than what his immediate superior displayed.

"Goddess…" Liara whispered, hand covering her mouth; "Oh no."

"Shut up! I'm trying to steer this thing…" Ashley barked. She didn't care for even a moment that, aside from Liara, everyone else in the pod outranked her. She just cared about getting to the human floating in space, now just seventy meters away and closing.

"Any sign of John?" Jane asked quietly. She knew that Tali was likely growing just as desperate as Ashley was, and that the young engineer had likely hacked the entire swarm of pods, just to hear anything said in relation to John. Jane knew all too well what it meant to lose the ones you love.

"I don't see him. If he's alive out there, the scans aren't picking him up." Ashley said with a professional voice that startled the entire group of survivors; "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She muttered, trying to form an apology. There was nothing after that, and the pod assumed an almost dead silence, aside from the heavy breathing of the distressed crewmembers.

As the pod closed in on the man she was emotionally bound to, Ashley started noticing a shimmering light dancing over his body. It was faint, and only registered when she looked at the scans again and again, trying to understand what was in front of her. It was Thomas alright, thank God for small mercies, but… there was something covering him.

"He is in a stasis field." Liara stated from behind her, with such suddenness that Ashley almost jumped right up from shock alone; "The armor holds but ten minutes of oxygen. It has been longer since the attack…"

"So he's kept alive by the field?" Scorch asked, trying to eek around the blue girl to get a look at the screen.

"Yes, I think so. Maybe John is out there too, encased in the same protection?" Liara said. Ashley shook her head slowly. If John was out there, he'd have been picked up by the scans, stasis or not. She didn't say this, though, as she felt enough pain was caused without putting word to it.

"Can we bring him inside the pod?" She finally asked as she stopped the vessel, just a few meters from the man she loved. Through the cameras, she could see there were no ruptures or gashes in his armor, none apart from what had already been there. Relief flooded her.

In one of the other pods, after having listened through the channels of the pods, a young Quarian girl had already broken into hysterical weeping and screaming.

"I don't see how... The pods only have a single door. Open it, and we suck everything out…" Jane muttered.

"Then what? Just leave him out there?" Ashley demanded, glaring at her Captain. The red-head remained calm and collected in the face of a furious and desperate pair of brown eyes; "We don't even know how long that stasis field is going to last!" Ashley shouted, hitting the nearest panel with a tight fist.

"Stasis fields can last for hours, days even. If we leave him alone, the field will feed off his own energy, maintaining itself until we-" Jane started.

"_This is the BSV Guardian Angel, responding to Systems Alliance Normandy distress call. I repeat, this is the BSV Guardian Angel, responding to distress call in the Amada system."_

The entire pod once more fell silent, this time in disbelief more than anything else. Jane looked around at the other occupants, and decided to answer the call the moment she realized that it wasn't just her own imagination.

"This is Captain Shepard of the Normandy. We were attacked by a cruiser of unknown origin, approx twenty minutes ago. My crew is scattered in escape-pods nearby. Oxygen is fine, but we have men in space, at least one of them suspended in stasis. How copy?" She said. It was only after she had spoken that she realized what 'BSV' stood for.

Blue Suns...

"_Solid Copy, Captain. We already spotted one life-form drifting in biotic stasis. A shuttle will be dispatched to collect him."_

"Can you see a Quarian out there too?" Jane asked, praying that the answer would be yes, like 'yes, we do and will pick him up'. She would even settle for a 'yeah, but we don't like suit rats', as that would mean they had _seen_ John.

"_Negative. A single life form, and it's human." _The Voice, Turian if she guessed right, said.

"Fuck… oh fuck, Tali isn't going to… oh God."

"_Captain Shepard?" _

"Right, yes. How soon can you be here?"

"_We're two minutes out and closing. Do you or your crew require immediate treatment upon arrival?"_

"No, I think injuries have been minimal. The only injured is my pilot." Jane said, then added;"He suffers from Vrolik's syndrome."

"_I see. Captain, we have you on visuals now. Is… Spirits, the wreck, is that…"_

"The Normandy, yes."

"_I am sorry for your loss, Captain. It was… a good ship, I have heard."_

"It was." Jane muttered, keeping her eyes on the still form of her Service Chief, floating in space as he was. She had yet to process, much less accept or come to terms with the fact that she had lost John. She had _sworn_ to make sure they both survived, and she had just…

_She stood in front of the emergency controls, having just prepped the Distress Beacon, while the crew around her was running around, seeking positions and ways to make sure they made it. She turned the final handle, being rewarded with a ping as the beacon was ready._

"_Jane!" John'Shepard had called from behind, bringing her attention back as she secured her helmet. It had been some time since she had worn the regular phase-II, but she had kept the armor, just in case._

"_Distress beacon is ready for launch" She had said, just as the beacon did launch._

"_You think the Alliance will get here in time?" John had asked, doubt in his voice. Around them, electronics sparked and died in bursts of fire, more than one forcing her to bring up an arm to brace herself._

"_I'm sure as hell not doing this just to present some late team with a bunch of frozen corpses. How's the ship?"_

"_Fucked. Shields are gone, barriers down and we have more breaches-" An explosion rocked the ship; "Kazuat! Jane, we can't save the ship!"_

_Jane nodded and slammed the haptic display, calling for ship wide evacuation. She hated this, hated it all. She had lost the Normandy once already, by dying herself. Now, she would lose it a second time, to a species she had never even seen before. _

"_Get everyone to the escape-pods!"_

"_Jane, Joker's still in the cockpit, he won't leave. I'm getting him." The Quarian had said. It was one of those moments where he commanded such an aura of respect that she was compelled to nod._

"_Just don't die on me, okay?"_

"_Captain, I'll be-"_

"_I mean it, John. Don't you fucking dare leave me with a heartbroken Tali." And he had run off. He had run off, up the stairs. _

Now, now she had lost him. John had broken his promise, denied her order. He had gotten himself killed… She clenched her fists and cursed and swore beneath her breath, accursing whatever God or gods were really controlling the universe.

She looked at the other displays, showing a cruiser of Turian make slowly glide towards their little cluster of pods. It felt… empty, knowing she had failed. They were saved now, yes, but it had nothing to do with her efforts to keep people alive. She had failed. Thomas had bloody _warned_ her, and she had still chosen to just go ahead and wait things out. Stupid, stupid thing to do. Idiotic. Insane. Careless.

"_Captain Shepard, are you still with us?"_ She was jolted from her cursing and grinding of teeth by the Turian over the comms. Swallowing her frustrations, she forced herself to present the calm and collected face she knew a superior officer was supposed to carry at all times.

"I am. Status?"

"_We're dispatching shuttles to bring your pods into our main hangar. We're sending out a shuttle with crew to bring in your man from space. Prepare for transit."_

As the Turian spoke, Jane slumped down the wall of the pod, closing her eyes. She didn't bother reacting when a tremble went through the pod, as it was grabbed between a pair of outdated UH-42 Grizzly shuttles. _Everything… it all just… I lost another one. Why… why do I keep losing my friends? Why does everyone I care about DIE?!_

* * *

December 24th

BSV Guardian Angel

Medical facility, deck 2.

12:19

When Thomas woke up, he wasn't immediately aware of having even been under, or out of it. He knew he wasn't on the Normandy, for one. There was a whole new type of light here, where he looked up. It was like lying in the Medbay, actually. Except, the light here was… softer, sort of. That was the second thing he noticed, that he could see. That meant his eyes were open, which meant he was alive.

He could feel his entire body ache with soreness and pain, his arms mostly. It was impossible, as he wasn't even supposed to be able to be sore in the left arm. Part of it being bionic meant it was supposed to leave out that sort of stuff. He tried moving his head around, just looking around, but found that he simply didn't have the energy for it. It was as if all effort was directed at simply remaining awake.

Gods, but the pillow was soft. He found that he wanted nothing more than simply relaxing against the soft, cushioning material of a real, actual pillow. This one was far, far better than the Normandy pillows.

The Normandy…

What was it about the Normandy?

He was supposed to remember something about the Normandy, wasn't he? It was something rather important, he was sure, but… what? He sighed as memory eluded him, leaving him to simply enjoy the cool, soft pillow beneath his head. And a nice cover too, not too heavy or warm, and just thick enough that it was nice. But he was still sore. Maybe he had gone too much over the top in training?

The next thing he felt was a crushing hug, followed by what almost felt like desperation in the form of a kiss. Hot, soft lips pressed against his, with quick breathing being the only sound he could process as he tried understanding why he was being kissed, and by whom.

Obviously, the 'whom' had better be Ashley, or someone would be in serious trouble. Wait, he hadn't gotten drunk on leave and ended up with a hooker, right? No, no that would just be… besides, he didn't even like prostitution. It was wrong and… okay, yeah, that was definitely Ashley. He could recognize the taste of her now, the sound she made when breathing during a kiss. So, he did what he felt was right, and tried wrapping his arms around her back as he felt some of her weight on top of him, separated by the sheets. He could hardly move his arms though, so instead he settled for returning the kiss the best he could.

As it ended, his eyes could start taking in the appearance of his love, Ashley. She was teary and smiled at him with such relief that he started wiggling his toes, just to see if the relief was caused by her being glad he had survived getting his legs torn off. The again, what would have torn his legs off? Maybe Wrex, though the Krogan wasn't on the ship anymore. He'd gotten off the last time they were on Arcturus.

Kind of a shame, as it meant the Battlemaster, or Warlord or whatever he was, could escape being dressed up as Santa for Christmas. Ah well, would have probably looked silly too, so what the hell.

The next thing he noticed, was just how battered Ashley looked. There was a healing gash on her cheek, and she had a small amount of purple bruises on the chin, as well as a cracked lip. Funny, how he hadn't felt thát when they kissed.

"Oh thank God." She breathed, hugging him closely again. Thomas looked around, trying to process what was going on, as the woman he loved hugged him like he had just come back from the dead; "Thank God, thank God, you're awake."

"I… am glad to see you too, Ash?" He tried. Why was she so relived he was awake?

"I thought… God, I thought… when we couldn't find you, I…" She stammered, pressing the words out through tears. He did his best to comfort her, but as he really had no idea what the cause of her distress was, it was less than easy.

"I'm here. It's okay. I'm here, Ash." He tried, nudging the top of her head with his chin, his head being about the only part he could move right now. As he looked around, the fact that he wasn't on the Normandy, came back to him; "Ehm… where am I?"

Ashley pulled a little away from him, which wasn't as nice as before, because now he missed her warmth and the feeling of her body against his. She looked at him with mild surprise, though her eyes still radiated with both distress and immense relief.

"You… we're on a… after the attack, the Blue Suns…" She started.

"We were attacked by the Suns?" Thomas exclaimed. Last thing he had heard, the Suns had pretty much turned good-guy vigilantes. Why would they attack the Normandy-crew? Or, was it an attack on _him_ personally? He hadn't killed any Suns mercs yet, had he? Honestly he couldn't remember. Maybe the Suns had been paid by Cerberus to kill him, as revenge for ruining their operation on Pragia?

"What? What, no I… you don't remember?" Ashley managed to stammer, confusion clear in her voice. What was he supposed to remember? The last thing he remembered… oddly enough, he _couldn't _remember what the last thing he remembered was.

"I… no?" He tried, feeling a slight throbbing in his head as he spoke, as well as a severe case of parcel-throat. Ashley looked more than a little disturbed for a moment, then looked at him with the saddest eyes he had seen since… actually, he couldn't remember having _ever_ seen her thís sad before, and it looked more like sympathy than anything else. _Oh gods! Who's dead!?_

"Three days ago, the Normandy was attacked by… Jane called them Collectors, or said she suspected it was who'd done it. We were completely overwhelmed, and the Normandy was lost." Ashley spoke slowly, as if he was mentally incapacitated. In a way, he supposed he was, as an attack on the Normandy was clearly something he ought to remember.

"What?" Was all he managed to utter, fear rising in his mind. There were so many questions flying through his head now, that he started feeling dizzy; "How… how…who…"

"You were somewhere near the bridge, I think, when it happened. Joker said you forced him into one of the pods right before the ship itself was cut in half…" As Ashley spoke, Thomas started adding two and two together. If _he_ had been the one to save Joker, then both Shepards had survived. _YES! YES! Fuck yes!_

His smile faltered though, as Ashley remained somber, and a cold, icy feeling crawled up his spine.

"Thomas…"

"Ash… who…" He whispered, fearing any response that would mean he had failed.

"We lost John…" She said with teary eyes; "He's dead."


	2. The face of a merc

**Well, here's chapter two.**

**As you might have guessed, Omega will be for the Magnus-arch what the Normandy in Book 1 was for Thomas.**

* * *

**The face of a merc**

* * *

December 24th

BSV Guardian Angel.

Medical facility, deck 2.

12:27

Thomas stared at Ashley, his mind repelling the very idea that she had just said what he believed she had said. There was no way… there was just no way.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to deny what she said, wanted to call Ashley a liar. He wanted, ever so desperately, to make it all a lie.

"…What?" In the end, was all he managed to press out. He could feel his throat constrict, dry as parchment as his eyes watered and his jaw trembled, along with his entire body. The bed no longer felt soft or comfortable, but now rather stiff, hot, unwelcoming and utterly _undeserved_. Why… why was he alive, and lying in a bed, when he had so catastrophically failed the people he had sworn to protect, failed the man he had sworn to save, failed the friend who had, in his last moments, relied on _him_ for salvation?

"I'm sorry…"

"…I…" He tried speaking, moving his mouth, but with no sound leaving him. His vision went to hell, blurred by tears that started streaming down his face. A gash in his cheek started stinging from the salty liquid, but it was numbed by the sheer, and raw emotional pain that was washing over him, threatening to all but stop his heart from beating. His breath hitched and became thick as he struggled to process what she had told him. _No! No! No! Please gods, No!_

Ashley hugged him again, pressing him to her body as her own breathing hitched and tears flowed from her face and onto his. He numbly returned the embrace, feeling at least a small gratitude that she had survived in the end. The pain from the loss was still much too horrible to contain, and in the embrace of the woman, Thomas wept for the friend he had lost.

* * *

13:41

BSV Guardian Angel

Cantina, Deck 1

"So… let me see if I got this right, Captain." The human Suns commander, Freest Depal said, looking between Jane and the datapad he had used to write down her debriefing. Jane had allowed it, for more than just the reason of gratitude towards the merc. She also needed to make sure she remembered ever detail for when they returned to Arcturus. She nodded, allowing him to continue;

"You were scouting out the Amada-system, looking for signs of disappeared ships, ten to be precise. At approximately half an hour after you entered the system, your ship was, while in stealth, ambushed by forces unknown." Jane nodded; "Following a failed attempt at escaping, your ship, the SSV Normandy, was destroyed by said forces. Notable lost personnel was the commander of the Normandy, the Quarian John'Shepard."

"Yes. Chief Fisher attempted to recover the commander by going after him into space, though he was unsuccessful in this, and we nearly lost him as well." Jane said, maintaining a calm and professional voice. The Suns commander scratched his chin;

"Fisher… is he a biotic?"

"No, not that any tests have ever shown or revealed." Jane said, shaking her head.

"You said earlier that he was suspended in a form of biotic stasis?" The man said, highlighting that particular section of their former conversation.

"True, and we have no idea how. It doesn't help that, according to Chief Williams, Fisher suffers from short-term amnesia, likely caused by a knock to the head during the attack."

"Well… John'Shepard was a known biotic. Could he have done it, to protect Fisher?"

"I don't know. I've never seen John to be capable of creating a stasis field, but aside from that, I really… sorry, it's… a lot has happened. Some of my crew is harder hit than others." Tali'Zorah, she knew, was ranking in the top of those. Jane felt for the girl, and did her best to be there for her, even though she had an inkling that being alone was probably what Tali preferred for the moment.

"I understand. Losing a ship, as well as valued friends, is never easy." Freest Depal muttered, standing. As Jane did the same, Depal nodded; "You, as well as your crew, can take the rest of the day to cope. We should arrive at Arcturus in about nine hours, where you will disembark and we will return to our duties."

"Thank you, Commander. I never would have thought… I appreciate it, we all do." Depal gave a weak smile at her halted sentence;

"You never thought a mercenary would stop to help those in need?"

"I didn't say…" Jane tried, flustered. Damn it, why did she have to fuck everything she did up? First she lost the ship, then John, and now she had insulted the man who had saved their asses?

"Before the revolution, you'd have probably been right. The Suns are different now, though, and if I can ask any payment off you, it is that you tell this to your superiors. Improved rep or not, we are still seen as criminals by many. Good day, Captain." Depal said, nodded and then left Jane to her own devices. At the moment, those devices involved simply slumping back down on the chair, head in her hands and eyes closed.

"Why… why, why, why…" She muttered to herself, tired from the last few days and what they had brought.

The Suns had agreed to take them to Arcturus, but only after the Guardian Angel had made a stop at Omega, of all places, to drop something, or someone off. Despite his friendly and polite manners, Freest had been adamant that no non-Blue Sun had seen what they were unloading, and as such the entire surviving Normandy crew had been allocated as far away from the hangar and any windows turned towards the station. And now, here she sat, alone in a cantina made by Turians, bought by mercs and captained by a 'criminal'.

What _was_ a criminal anyway? Criminals broke the law, that was easy to remember. But… Spectres broke the law all the time, and lots of companies broke the law all the time. These mercs… God, she used to hate mercs with every fiber in her body. Once, she had taken joy in executing pirates and mercs without even giving those actions any second thoughts. It had all been so much easier back then. Now?

Now she owed her life, the lives of her entire crew, to a ship owned by mercs.

"If this is some sort of joke… I'm still waiting for the punchline…" Jane muttered to herself, resting her forehead on the cold surface of the metal table, so alike the tables they had had on the Normandy. _Right… and I lost the Normandy…and John… _

"Jane?" A familiar, soft voice spoke. Jane didn't bother looking up, as she would recognize the gentle tones of Kaidan anywhere and at all times. He was a constant in her life, both the former and this one, and as long as he was around, she had the feeling that things at least had a boundary they couldn't cross to get even more shitty.

Didn't mean she even considered raising her forehead from the cool, comfortable table though. She would have loved some alcohol right about now, preferably whisky. As Kaidan sat down in the chair next to hers, she listened to his even and calm breathing, allowing it to grant her a sort of calm that nothing else seemed capable of giving.

It was… nice.

"How are you holding up?" Kaidan asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Just dandy. You?" She muttered, straining to make her right eye see him without having to move her head, thus losing the nice, hard and cool surface of the table. Kaidan sighed and leaned back, probably looking at the ceiling or something. She didn't really care.

"I'm alive. Wish I could say the same about some other people, but there really was nothing we could have done." He said after a moment of silence. Jane pressed her eyes shut, feeling like the lowest piece of slime that she hadn't bothered telling him about Thomas's warning. Far as she knew, the only person who had known was Joker. _Because I didn't want unnecessary panic… fuck my sense of logic with a cactus…_

"Maybe…" Was all she said. What _could_ she say? Was this what Thomas felt whenever he had to spill some terrible secrets? Was this what the kid felt when he had to keep said secret from his friends? If so, she pitied the guy, and started gaining far more personal respect for him than she ever had before.

"Jane… Captain. You did your best, no matter the outcome. There was nothing you, or I, or anyone could have done that could have saved the people we lost. Adams was… he was a good man, really good. Even Wrex seemed to like him, you know." Kaidan tried a chuckle, but it came out as a weak cough instead. Jane knew he was steering around the subject of John.

"He was…I just never… Kaidan, why… why?" She groaned, forcing her eyes shut for fear that her tears would burst out. A comforting and familiar hand was placed on her shoulder, and she found herself suddenly leaning against the lieutenant who had been a comforting presence in her life for… years, at least.

"The universe can be a cruel place, Jane. Friends die, family die, loved ones die… All we can do is try to make the galaxy a brighter place before we leave." Jane shuddered as he spoke the words 'family', as it reminded her, forced her to remember the fateful day back on Mindoir, where her entire world had crumbled under the unforgiving and merciless boot of Batarian slavers.

She winced as he spoke the words 'loved ones' as it forced her mind back to every moment she had spent with Magnus since the day they had met, and till the day he was gunned down on the Citadel.

"I don't…know, if… Kaidan, _how_ do I make it brighter?" She was now fully leaning against him, not caring if anyone saw them. Her hair was a mess as her head rested on his chest and he held her, not unlike how one would hold a sad child.

"You just do the best you can, Jane." He said, every tone in his words radiating confidence and trust in her, in her personality and her abilities as a leader.

She wasn't so sure she believed him.

* * *

December 24th

Omega, Sahrabarik system.

"Docking bay" 0005

"Ah, _Omega_. The city of light and love and expensive croissants… no wait, that's Paris…" Magnus laughed to himself as he and the rest of the sixty Blue Suns emerged from the docked BSV Scorpio, having locked and secured the vessel with enough codes and gadgets to keep out a hyperactive Salarian, if need be.

"Just call it the anus of the galaxy. Is what I do when I came here the last time." Tuara replied, sauntering through the "docking bay" they used for the frigate. Calling it a docking bay was doing it more credit than calling a female Krogan 'sexy'. The dock was a hole carved into the station, then fitted with a pressure-room for depressurization and an airlock. If something broke on it, the entire immediate ward or block would be sucked into the vacuum of space. Not really the nicest way to go.

"What's the matter, Tatra? Don't like the smell of the galaxy's collective doodie shoved into a single station?" Hayfield asked from behind as he pulled the cart of their accumulated equipment. The Suns were like every other military in the regard that they had to pull their stuff around either by cart, or like the Eclipse favored, by mech. The public usually never saw this, and probably just though they carried around disassembled mechs in their pockets.

"Hey, I grew up in lower Cipritine. I _lived_ this shit every day, 'cept we had an atmosphere, and less of those crawly thingies." The Turian woman protested as she tapped her sidearm, just to be sure it hadn't already been stolen. Weapons were stolen faster than a Salarian could blink on Omega, but oddly enough, cars and vehicles were left pretty much alone.

"Spiders?"

"Those, yeah. Whatever sick mind thought to invent those fuckers in their evolution, should have my foot up his ass." Tuara growled. Magnus resisted a laugh that would likely have earned him a kick over the shin from said Turian. Next to him, Lantar shook his head in an exasperated sigh.

"You know, Darwin might get a little sad that you don't like his theories."

"Who's Darvin?" Tuara asked, looking back at Magnus. He himself was hauling his own weapons, plus the compressed barrels for a mounted 30calliber 'Firestarter' minigun. Thing was heavy as hell, and he was only carrying the barrels.

"Charles Darwin" Sidonis said; "…was the first human to fully realize and theorize the evolution of organic life on the human homeworld, back in their date of 1859. He theorized that every single species and race of animal on their planet had evolved to suit the needs of their respective environments. At that time, mind you, most humans firmly believed that a creator God had designed everything right from the beginning, which was a belief Darwin somewhat shattered with his… Book? He published a text he dubbed 'The Origin of species', that even to this date, multiple scholars throughout the galaxy refer to."

As Lantar stopped, Magnus stared at him in wide-eyes amazement, which was a rare thing for him to do. Never had he though the Turian's knowledge of humans extended _that_ far and wide. Hell, he himself hadn't known half the shit Lantar just said.

"…What's that got to do with spiders?" Tuara asked after a moment of silence. Magnus smacked his helmet's forehead, making sure the Turian medic both heard and saw him do it.

As the crew advanced through the station, headed for the outpost belonging to the Blue Suns, Magnus started noticing aspects of the station, and more importantly its inhabitants, that seemed far more… gloomy, than it had back when he had seen it the first time. Of course, back then it had all been digital. The real life version always was more… well, 'gloomy' really was the best word for it.

People were lying in the streets, sitting in the corners with little signs spelling out pleas for food, medicine of just general humanitarian compassion. Apparently, those were sort of "out of stock" on the station. He idly wondered if Aria was just slouching back in her comfy sofa, watching _her_ people as they suffered. Honestly, he really wouldn't put it past the Asari to do just thát.

He saw a Batarian, hardly older than ten human years, stripping a corpse for anything valuable. The body was another Batarian, probably a woman, judging by the torn bra that failed to cover her chest completely. Prostitution was a common enough sight that he never really noticed it before. Though seeing a child rob a dead prostitute… Omega really was the "Rectum of the Galaxy" that people called it.

After hours of walking, bypassing checkpoints held by Aria's men, the group reached what amounted to the "border" between Arian's land and that of the Blue Suns. As they were cleared and passed the heavily armed guards, all of them humans. He would have wondered why that was, if he actually cared. For the moment though, he was simply downright tired of hauling and waiting, feeling like thát one kid in the airport that everyone wanted to knock unconscious with a tire iron, but no one really bothered getting close enough to.

The difference when they finally entered Blue Suns territory, was rather astonishing compared to what he had seen of Omega thus far.

There were no dead or dying people littering the streets, for one. Instead, there seemed to be the rule that if you could work, you worked and the Suns gave you shelter. Rather pragmatic, maybe, but more reasonable than just dumping people on the streets.

The second thing he noticed, was that most houses, if one could describe the buildings as such, seemed to have power and were somewhat kept, even though they still looked like something from Fallout. They were all made from scrap, or simply metal that had long-since rusted brown. He even saw an actual prefabricated building, supposed to sit on the surface of a planet, welded to the wall above another home, with a ladder extending. _So this is what Quarians must feel like on the Flotilla…_

The third thing he noticed, and what really both surprised him and yet didn't, was the fact that Batarians were walking freely around, living their lives with little to no visible constrictions. He saw no Batarians in armor, which would have completely confused him, but he was still amazed that the Batarians, the species that had been ethnically cleansed from the organization, seemed so… well, 'peaceful' seemed a good word for it. The only thing they seemed to do for the Suns, was repairing buildings and non-essential equipment for the community, such as refiners and pumps for the water.

"Hey, what gives with the Four-eyes?" Magnus asked Lantar as they walked side by side, subjected to the rather curious looks of the surroundings. If the turian raised a brow beneath the helmet, Magnus had no idea.

"We wiped them from the organization. Doesn't mean we have to slaughter every one we see, Magnus."

"Oh… right, of… I just figured… Never mind." He muttered as he looked around. There were a few squads of Suns patrolling the streets, weapons loaded and ready for trouble. The residents around him seemed better off than what he'd see anywhere else on Omega, but still piss-poor compared to places like Elysium or the Citadel, or Hel, just Arcturus; "So… what'd they do here?"

"Pretty much what everyone else does, I suspect. They've lived here since before the formation of the Suns, so we're pretty much just a police-force here." The Turian shrugged. Magnus noted that there still was an air of sadness about Lantar, but decided not to comment on it. He knew enough that losing friends tended to hurt for a while.

"Right… so, no hostilities? No bad feelings?" He asked.

"Bound to be some, of course. Mind you, not everywhere had the same bloodbaths as Zorya. Not Omega, but some places simply sacked the Batarian Suns. I figure there was some pissed people there, but grateful when they heard what happened at HQ."

"Right…" Magnus muttered as their group came to a stop in a plaza-like section of the territory. Tara was at the lead, along with Navigator Velan Harius, presenting a surprisingly professional front towards the rest of the place. Professional or not though, Magnus snickered to himself, noticing how Tara's armor failed to conceal her more than generously shaped hips.

Approaching the formation of Scorpio's troopers, was a trio of Suns, none of them regulars from the looks of it. Two of them were Turians, clad in heavy armor and with holographic armor on top of it too, both toting every kind of weapons capable of being carried by a single person. Leading them was a woman, helmet on and presenting an almost menacing appearance to those looking at her. Her hip sported a pair of pistols, Carnifex's from what Magnus could see, as well as a monomolecular katana-blade on her left hip. _Damn… what is it with women and being deadly?_

As the trio of obvious high-ups stopped in front of Tara's formation, both sides snapped to a salute, one that the entirety of the formation mirrored, if not with military precision.

"Captain Tara'Velan vas Scorpio nar Qwib Qwib, reporting with reinforcements and supplies per requested orders." Tara said in one breath, giving Magnus yet another reason he never wanted to be an officer. Having to remember that whole mouth-off in one go? No way.

"Commander Jentha Haruno, Omega Blue Suns, 2nd Battalion." The woman said. She then, to Magnus's great surprise, removed her helmet with a hiss, and revealed the face of a young woman, possibly no older than her late twenties. Her hair, colored to be a dark red, closing on downright purple, fell down to her cheeks and stopped just where her armor began at the start of the neck. Adding even more surprise, Jentha smiled broadly at Tara; "It's good to see you, Captain Velan."

"Likewise, Commander." Tara replied, grasping the commander's extended hand in a tight grasp. _Well… I suppose I really should stop being surprised these days…_

Sure, Tara had told him that she knew _a _Jentha on Omega, but Magnus had never really imagined that it was the same Jentha that he had seen so many years back. Sure, back then it had all been digital, but faces were easy to recognize, and this was the same damned woman he had seen back then. _I guess this means I won't have to end up shooting her? Cool._

The Scorpion's crew was then directed to one of the barracks, a repurposed community center that had been outfitted with make-do walls and added rooms to accommodate a small army of troopers. A group of logisticians directed the crew to their own section of the building, granting at least the privacy of being with people you were somewhat familiar with. Magnus dumped his duffel-bag onto a bed that was of considerably lower quality than what he had gotten used to on Zorya. It was still better than what he had expected from Omega though, and he knew that he really should be, and was, grateful that there even was a bed at all. Thát done, he positioned the barrels for the 'Fire starter' machinegun across his back and went to find where to dump the piece of tech.

Even when wearing his armor, carrying around a sixty-kilo six-barrel part of a heavy weapon, took its toll on him. Still, no point in complaining, or he'd sure as hell not have made it thís far. As he made his way to the armory where he suspected he could drop off the thing, Magnus started taking the chance to look around more as he went.

Here and there, true, he saw signs of poverty and famine, decline in health and such problems. But, compared to the rest of Omega, the places run by the Suns really seemed far better off. There had to be some sort of secret that was known only to the Blue Suns, since they were the only ones who actually managed to get their shit together on what amounted to the disease-ridden asshole of the civilized galaxy.

Despite all the shit that had gone down, especially with the Batarian Suns, he saw civilians and mercs working together, repairing buildings, maintaining equipment and more. A fact that struck him was that he even saw Batarians, though not as many as the others, work with the Suns. As Lantar had said, they lived there too.

The barracks were just one of countless buildings arrayed around the central plaza, giving a very 'P'-like shape to the immediate compound. The plaza itself was not very big, but then again, what was on a station made up of shit and scrap? It was big enough that running across it would make him winded when carrying the parts, so instead a leisurely stroll was both called for and appreciated. Granted, it was a stroll carrying a piece of a weapon that could turn an YMIR-mech into scrap, but who really cared?

Okay, maybe the guys who were going to be using it…

The Armory itself was rather well organized, as something supplying well over hundreds of men needed to be. Magnus had no idea what the place had been before, but the flickering holographic image of a knife that went up and down in a swooping manner, made him guess at either a barbershop, or a butcher. _Except if it's Sweeny Todd, then it's both in one hat._

Long rows were organized for different types of weapons, with countless stands for low-grade Avenger rifles filling out the better part of the place, while Vindicators, Mattocks and a few Turian Phaestons were available as well. It was, as he had expected, mostly rifles, though there was no shortage of shotguns and sub-machineguns either. He saw no pistols, but then again, who among them didn't have their own sidearm already?

As he walked the corridors, eyes sweeping the many weapons on display, he could feel the same sort of childish glee he had felt when the Alliance Marines had issued him his very first Avenger, way back in the day.

His fingers, on the hand not holding the strap for the oversized barrels, tentatively danced over the surfaces of a Mattock, admiring the fact that it had clearly been repaired from a state of absolute scrap, to a condition that was close to pristine, if one looked away from the multiple scars and scrapes on its surface.

"Can I help you?" A filtered voice asked, causing Magnus to snap around fast enough that he managed to tear the gun from its place. _Oh fuck! _

"Damn! Sorry, I'll just… right… there." Magnus actually found himself stuttering as he fumbled with getting the weapon back in place. The speaker was a Quarian, who was now looking at him with hands on his hips, looking almost bossy-like.

"It's fine. Mattocks can take being shot at, a bump won't ruin it." The Quarian said, looking like he was sizing Magnus up for something; "You're one of the new guys, right? Just came in?"

"I am… how did…"

"People new to Omega always have the same way of walking. I've been here since my pilgrimage started, so I should know." The Quarian said, gesturing for Magnus to hand him the barrels for the gun; "You're from the Scorpio, aren't you? Straight from Zorya?"

"Seriously, do I have it spelled on my helmet or something?" Magnus asked, scratching to remove any painted letters on his head that would spell 'FNG From Zorya'. He followed as the unnamed Quarian carried the piece of armament into what almost looked like a shop of some sort. There was a sign next to the Quarian's bench, spelling 'Kenn'Tol nar Idenna'. _So… this is Kenn? Figures really, I get to meet everybody… who's next, Mordin?_

"Not really, no. Anyway, thanks for bringing this thing over. Need to get the gun up and running, sooner rather than later actually." Kenn said, immediately getting to work at assembling the heavy weapon all on his own. Magnus watched in stupefied awe as he witnessed just why Quarians were known as the best mechanics and engineers in the galaxy.

What would have taken his own species at least a team, plus machines to assemble, this one Quarian did on his own in less than fifteen minutes, finally standing back to examine his work with a satisfied nod.

"So… that was… Why do you need it working as soon as possible?" Magnus asked, finding that it would be beyond stupid to start commenting on what this guy probably did on a daily basis. Kenn shrugged as he ran his Omnitool over the weapon, now looking like something that ate Krogans for lunch.

"Blood Pack's been pressing the guys lately. They probably figures us easy targets now, what with the Batarian troopers either dead or sacked, and those sacked mostly went to join either Aria or the blood Pack itself. For some reason, Eclipse doesn't take them either." The way Kenn spoke, betrayed the fact that he had seen more than a kid his age should, and probably been through more shit than Magnus before his time in the Alliance Navy.

"So… we essentially dropped into a war-zone?" Magnus asked. At Kenn's rather casual nod and shrug, he just sighed; "Figures… well, at least it's just Vorcha and Krogan. Shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"And Varren too. Nasty things, like to tear into everything and have disease-ridden teeth. Lost a lot of people to infected bites, from what I've heard." Kenn seemed to repress a shudder. Magnus grinned beneath his helmet. The last time he had encountered Varren had been on Feros, where he had planted his shotgun in the mouth of a Varren Alpha pack leader. Things weren't really that much different from the wolves of Earth, 'cept they lacked fur and had bigger teeth.

Also wolves were a lot more adorable than Varren. Magnus was about to press on the subject when his comms buzzed;

"Magnus, rally at the central plaza in five. Arm and armor up, we're joining the fight here. Any chance you can bring some heavy weapons from the armory?" Tara said. Magnus smiled at hearing her voice, a blissful sound in this shithole they called Omega. Fitting name really, as a lot of things met their end here.

"Got that, Tara. Would a Krogan-eating minigun do the trick?" Even talking to her over the comms made him grin.

"Good, yes that'll be needed. Bring the thing here, I'll have someone bring your rifle. Are you wearing your armor?"

"Kinky phone-games have to wait, Tara." He smirked, almost laughing when he heard her stuttering on her end of the link; "Yeah I am. Will bring the weapon."

"See you there." Tara stuttered, then cut the link. It was obvious he had hit a soft spot there, and by Frey, he savored it. Tara was at her cutest when he made her stutter or fumble. He turned towards Kenn who looked at him. _Well, where else would he look?_

"Well, nice meeting' you Kenn. You mind if I steal this thing away?"

"Where to?" Kenn asked, suddenly growing a little hesitant about letting something he had repaired just leave the place.

"Captain Velan says we need something with a punch. Can I-"

"Velan? Tara'Velan nar Qwib Qwib?!" Kenn exclaimed, stopping himself from stepping right into Magnus' face.

"…Yeah?"

"Then… then yes, yes, yes of course. Yes, I'll have it brought to- I'll bring- I mean… do you need help carrying it?" The kid, and he really was a kid, was literally beaming behind his visor. Magnus couldn't help the laugh that escaped him;

"No, no I think I've got it." He laughed, slowly remembering what Tara had told him of her first time on Omega, of how she had saved another Quarian from some thugs; "Say, you wouldn't happen to be the scrawny pilgrim Tara got out of a situation a few…"

"A year and a half ago? Yes, yes, I am. Tara stopped a pair of Batarians from robbing me of everything. I still think Harrot's the one who hired them, but on Omega… well, anyway. Could you… you know, say hi from me?" Kenn's voice had grown increasingly frail and nervous, like he was a small child talking to one of those Goofy-costumed geeks in Disneyland.

"Sure, why not. I'm going there anyway." He said, then glanced at the mounted gun; "You ehm… wouldn't happen to have a cart for that thing?"

A few minutes later, notably _after_ he was supposed to have been at the rally, Magnus reached the central plaza, dragging a 'Fire Starter' heavy machinegun, capable of ripping apart just about anything in its way. He'd seen these things mounted on Jeeps before, though not as a stationary weapon. Then again, there was a first time for everything.

The rest of the crew hadn't waited for him to show up, though Lantar tossed him his rifle and shotgun. Magnus already carried his sidearm on him. On Omega, you didn't simply walk around without a gun. A thing Magnus noticed as he stood with the rest of them, trying to catch the end of the briefing from a dry Turian, was that there was a lot more activity in the plaza than had been just before.  
Troops were jogging around in formations, civilians were either making themselves scarce or stopping what they were doing in order to watch the troopers march by. There were several mechs walking around as well, as Omega wasn't the most wheel-friendly station. He honestly wasn't surprised to see that most of the mechs were Firebats, what with the Hellhound-class being far better suited to deal with Vorcha.

The term 'Kill it with fire' got a completely new meaning when your enemy could regenerate a blown-off leg.

"…at the barricades. Velan, your men will be making sure the Vorcha aren't getting at us through the sewers. A point of entry into the systems has been uploaded to your Omnitool. Now make ready, the Blood Pack is mounting up."

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the groups listening to the briefing. The group under Tara's command started moving out, and Magnus found himself confused as to what the fuck he was supposed to do with the gun. You didn't just bring a heavy machinegun into the sewers of a space station. Ideally, you didn't even bring firearms to a space station _at all_.

"Trooper, leave the mounted weapon here." The turian called. Magnus immediately obeyed, thankful that he was rid of the burden, but sad that he wasn't going to be ripping apart the Vorcha with it. Oh well, plenty of death to be dealing out when your enemy had both numbers and intelligence of rats.

As they reached the entrance to the sewers, Tara turned around to face the sixty-some troops.

"Everyone remembered to waterproof their armor?" There were a few weak chuckles at that. Of course the armor was waterproof, it was even airtight. Didn't change the fact that the water they would be wading through… Magnus shuddered at the thought.

Tara removed the cover, unveiling a regular sewer beneath the manhole. There was a short ladder down, ending in a slowly flowing river of something that was supposed to be restricted to someone's nightmares. Brian Kittles went down as the first, armed with a Firestorm. Having a flamethrower was going to be damned handy down there, but then again, there was the risk of setting gasses alight.

Magnus didn't want his death to be caused by "Burned alive by ignited farts in the anus of the galaxy". That would just be downstraight humiliating.

As the line of troopers submerged themselves into the manhole, Magnus resisted the urge to gag and was thankful for his armor's filtration-systems. He knew right away that this would be a mission he would be hating. Having sixty-odd troopers in a single sewer… so much shit could go down the drain from thát, and it was bound to at some point.

As his boots splashed into the cold muck, he shuddered and gagged at the sound and sensation of the heavy liquid and what was in it, splashing and running between his legs at knee-height. As if that wasn't enough, the only illumination in the tunnel-like pipes of shit were the lights on their helmets.

All else was darkness…

And Magnus _really_ hated the dark…

* * *

**A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is a lot shorter than most previous ones. The reason is quite simple really. In long chapters, people tend to forget the start by the time they reach the bottom. Belive me, I do that myself. And it sucks, because so many awesome stories don't get enough reviews because their chapters are too long. One that's been an inspiration to me, por ejemblo, is 'Avatar of Victory'. It's the single most badass Avatar/Mass Effect crossover ever done by human hands, yet only has 300-some reviews. James Golen is a badass writer, and I know I shouldn't be highlighting "competitors" in this story, but he simply is an artist.**

**Back to the reason. I've decided to make my chapters shorter, so I can make more of them, and you'll have a chance at remembering what actually happened in them. So, theoretically, everyone wins.**

**Next chapter will reunite us with Kasumi, but for now, I just wanted to make an update on what Magnus was foolin' around and doing.**

**Also, as you may have noticed, MC won the contest and will appear in this story. Possibly as a crewmember, possibly as a xeno-hating supser-soldier, possibly as a janitor. Who knows? ...Well, okay, _I_ know, but that would just be spoiling, wouldn't it?**


	3. Through shit and blood

**Well, well, well... I do believe it is time for a new chapter. Just as I mentioned at the start, these chapters are out at a faster rate than the longer ones. This one is just half the original length, meaning 5k instead of 10, and 10 pages instead of 19-20... damn, each chapter actually used to be about 20 pages long... time that with 83 chapters... Fek me, Book 1 was longer than I thought.**

**This time: Sit-Rep on Arcturus, Kasumi wishes Merry Christmas and Magnus walks through a river of shit in the sewers.**

* * *

**Through Shit and Blood**

* * *

December 24th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

20:14

"Well… Merry Christmas, I guess…" Anna sighed, taking a puff of her cigar. Usually, she was adamant against smoking, and she knew that smoking killed. Hell, she'd even made Zaeed quit his cigars… yet, current events required more than booze. This was something she couldn't just drink away.

Smoke filled her lungs, granting her a calm and peace she usually had a hard time finding otherwise. Maybe Zaeed had been right when he said smoking was good for the nerves, contrary to all scientific evidence.

"Wasn't aware there was much of an occasion." Price said, relaxing in his holographic chair. It was funny, Anna thought, that he had become more of a colleague and less of a tool since the day Kasumi fished him out of God knows where; "Still, Merry Christmas, Admiral."

"Yeah… When's the Cruiser scheduled?"

"In just over an hour." She looked at Price while he spoke, once more marveling at the level of technology that had gone into… creating him. They both knew and accepted that he was a computer, and yet there was something so inanely human about him.

"We got the medics ready?" She asked, chewing on the wet part of her cigar. Price nodded from his chair, a worried expression on his gruff face.

"Five teams of paramedics, doctors and nurses are standing by near the docks." He said, then added after a short pause; "It's never easy, is it?"

"Losing a piss-expensive ship never is…" She muttered, unwilling to accept the fact that she knew he wasn't just talking about the ship.

"Admiral…"

"What?" She asked, giving him a flat, annoyed look out the corner of her eye. Price was chewing his own cigar, though it didn't give out any semblance of smoke outside the projection. He looked like he wanted to say more, but kept silent instead.

"So… any updates on Projects Goto or Relay, for that matter?" She finally asked after a few minutes of awkward silence. Price didn't move, likely because he was going through some memory banks or something like that. Anna knew how most tech worked, but Price was still beyond her, hence why she had an easier time seeing him as a colleague than a machine.

"Kasumi Goto hasn't reported back in more than a week. I'll assume it is due to her mission having escalated, or just having fun. I don't bloody care really, but I'm keeping tabs on that boy of hers…"

"Keji Okuda?" Anna raised a brow, trying to remember the deal with Kasumi. Hard to, really, when semi-drunk and smoking.

"Right. Highly secured mansion in Florida for the duration of Miss Goto's employ. Most of the neighbors are undercover agents, and there's a camera in every tree." Price recounted; "In the case of, say, them having it out in the garden, the cameras are monitored by VI's instructed to delete those sections."

"Privacy and all…" Anna let out an unkind chuckle. Privacy, when everyone should be pissing till their shoes were soaked for fear of the Reapers. Instead, it was all censoring vids and banging your head against a political wall of titanium.

She missed the hype there had been during what was now known as 'The Incursion'. At least when Saren was a known face, she had a cause to rally people, guns and money behind. For fuck's sake, she'd gotten the Quarians into the Systems Alliance, but everyone gave the Alliance Parliament and Alliance Director all the credit.

Fucking politicians and their fucking Medias.

The only thing she needed now, to make the evening utterly _fantastic_, would be for Kasumi Goto to show up with a written declaration of war against the Milky Way, because the Andromeda Galaxy decided she was too big a pest. As she bit down hard enough to chew off a piece of her cigar, Anna failed to hear the sound of her office doors open.

Price noticed though, but only sighed when he saw who it was.

"Heya." Anna was mildly freaked out by the sudden newcomer. Still, the voice was easy to recognize.

"Kasumi… back to celebrate Xmass with your boy-toy?" Anna bit her off. Kasumi didn't seem particularly perturbed though, and simply flopped down on Anna's desk, lying on her back as she observed the somewhat drunk Admiral.

"Well, that too. I'll tell ya, it's Hell to figure out the time between here and there." The petite woman said; "Hi, Price. Nice seeing you finally put your legs up."

"How'd you know? Last time you were around, I was in my disk." To which Kasumi just smirked, like a child, in Anna's eyes.

"Weeeeeeeell… I might or might not have snuck in here while you had the meeting with those Quarians. Left again though, dreadfully boring." She made an effort of putting pressure on 'dreadfully', which served to annoy Anna even more. It wasn't Kasumi's fault, she knew, but unless the thief/ambassador had good news, Anna wasn't in the mood.

"What're you here for, then?" The Admiral said through her cigar. Kasumi looked mildly surprised, all of a sudden.

"You've started smoking?"

"Had to. Booze didn't cover enough ground. Is all tobacco, though. No funny stuff while I'm working…" Price gave a grunt of disbelief at that;

"When the hell _aren't _you working?"

"When I'm dead." Anna shot him down, then refocused on Kasumi, seeing as the girl was still using the desk as a couch; "Why are you here? Situation changed?"

"Weeeeeeeell… sort of. Don't worry, don't worry, I've got it under control. Geez, me a politician. Keji'd laugh his ass off if he saw the costume they forced me to wear through my first time in the senate."

"…Kasumi. Point of visit? Report?" Anna deadpanned, giving the girl a flat look.

"Right. Well, things are really going just great really. I've made a few friends and talked to some people… found out they use slave soldiers for their armies, but that's just another thing I'm trying to deal with." Kasumi kept talking, as apparently she had failed to notice that Anna had bitten clean through the cigar at the mention of 'slave soldiers'.

"Come again?" She said, her tone so low and dark that even the thief scurried down from the desk, expecting a verbal gunshot.

"I've made a few friends, both Jedi, politicians and some soldiers. You should _see_ them. If it wasn't for Keji I…Baka, you meant… Listen, I _fixing_ this, okay?" Kasumi's voice changed to that of an actually mature person.

"You have been there for months… and this… we've given those people _our_ technology, when they are just human versions of the Hegemony?" Anna snarled, the bit-off stump of her cigar landing on the desk with a wet _thud_; "And this is the _first_ time I hear about them using slaves as soldiers?"

"Anna, I am fixing it, okay? It's the politicians who're cranky about giving the clones any rights, not the Jedi. I'm making headway, believe it or not, so at least give me some actual credit here." Kasumi shot back. Price remained in his chair, curious eyes going between the two women as he went over thousands of scenarios with the data he had about this 'Republic'.

"Jesus Fucking _Christ_… first extra-galactic contact and they breed slaves for war… what? Can't we hope for anyone decent out there?"

"Hey chill, okay? 'Sides, I just came back to say Merry Christmas, you know. No reason to start shouting at me for that. By the way, you seem awfully pissy today. Who died?" It was clear that Kasumi's question was a joke, but Anna wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"John'Shepard, apparently. Plus Chief-Engineer Gregory Adams and a few others when the Normandy was reduced to a very expensive chunk of space-scrap." The woman growled, digging a nail into the skin of her palm.

"…Oh" Kasumi muttered, looking down at the floor. Anna didn't bother seeing if the girl was astonished or startled. She just wanted a few more minutes of peace before she had to go down and greet some merc who had picked up the surviving crew; "So… the rumors… your brother?"

"Thomas lived, yeah. So did the rest of the ground crew minus John… I haven't informed any of the Quarian admirals yet, so could you please… rumor?" Anna cut herself off as her mental gears shifted, and she processed the fact that Kasumi had heard a rumor… If Kasumi had heard it…

"Some people in Flights were talking about it." Kasumi muttered. Anna snapped towards Price, who apparently sensed he was needed. The chair vanished and he was standing before the last pixel had gone.

"Price?"

"Already on it. I'm going though channels and breaking off anything mentioning the Normandy. Might as well be you who tell Admiral Raan." The AI said. Anna nodded and sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Great… I'll have a screaming woman on my case soon anyway. I'm going to the docks to wait for the ship. When you can, contact the mercs and tell them to head for bay L-3."

* * *

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns territory, Sewers

18:42

"_Any contacts yet?"_

"Negative. All quiet down here." Tara responded in the comms. Magnus walked right behind her now, keeping his guard up. He _hated_ sewers. He hated sewers, because they were dirty, wet, smelly and most of all, because they were dark. He had the ocular modules that allowed him to see in the dark, but a green-tinted vision was still far from his preferences.

So, instead of focusing on the fact that he was wading through knee-high sludge of undetermined origin and composition, Magnus kept his eyes on something a bit more pleasing, and less professional as well, namely the person in front of him. Tara was carrying her sub-machinegun, the same she had used on Zorya, while her dual heavy pistols were still secured to her hip. Reasonably, her sniper rifle had been left at the base.

Himself, he had simply opted for what he was good at, namely something that killed stuff. A katana was always a good choice, even if it wasn't the most powerful shotgun in existence.

"_Affirmative. There should be a divide coming up on your front. Split the team into two and proceed from there with caution. Also, we're getting reports of a nest nearby. Stay alert, in case the sewers are infested. Haruno, out."_

"Well… that's uplifting." Magnus noted; "What would a nest be?"

"Omega has a lot of feral Vorcha. And I mean _a lot_. Most of the Vorcha used by the Blood Pack are just feral ones pointed the right way." Tara explained. _Great, so we've got zombie-Vorcha?_

"By the way, and this is probably a bad time to mention it, Captain, but I was supposed to say hi from an old friend of yours."

"This is really not the time, Olafur…" Tara muttered, keeping her weapon trained closely above Kittle's shoulder as the man walked at the front, pointing the Firestorm at the imposing darkness. They needed to work together down here, or a swarm of ferals could them all in.

"Got'cha." He knew she was right, and thus accepted to simply keep his mouth shut about anything not related to cleaning the sewers. Aesir, he didn't like the implications of that sentence.

"Captain, we're coming up on the divide." Kittles said from up front, the small flame from his weapon illuminating the tunnel and where it split, rusty walls of metal making up a set of pathways for them to follow.

"Sidonis, take the rearmost thirty troopers and head left. Rest of you, with me to the right." Tara called through the comms. There was no need to produce more noise than they already did, and alert eventual hostiles to their positions.

"Understood. Good luck, Captain." Lantar replied, gesturing for the aforementioned soldiers to follow him. Magnus watched the Turian disappear down the tunnel from the corner of his eye, silently hoping this wouldn't be the last time he saw his comrade. The rest of them moved on, forced to walk in silence and listen to the sounds from around them. Creaking metal, distant howls, dripping and flowing "water", the sound of armored boots moving through sewage, Magnus could even make out distant sounds of gunfire from somewhere above.

The group moved slowly, proceeding at a slow walk as they made their way through the sewer. Rats, of all things and creatures, followed them on the pipes running just above the waterline, small beady eyes watching their progress. While he hated sewers, Magnus didn't mind the rats. More than once, he had been forced to eat the little cretins in order to survive on missions, and as such he knew to look past their rather hideous appearance.

A growl penetrated the stale air.

The growl was followed by more, semi-sentient in sound as they came from creatures some would call sentient beings. Each was like a challenge, a threat of impending death approaching the Suns as they moved on despite them.

"Keep your heads in the game." Tara muttered as the growls became more and more frequent, until at last, it was a choir of hate and death, in front of them, as well as behind them; "Hold here. Prepare for hard contact."

The men and women obeyed, taking up positions in the chokepoint. The sewer was wide enough for two men to pass shoulder to shoulder, and would thus allow for the Suns to hold both directions in case of an attack. An attack which, it seemed, was getting more and more imminent. Kittles remained standing, finger on the trigger of his weapon, prepared to spew forth fire and death. Tara, being right behind the man, gestured for Magnus to move up in front of her. He positioned himself next to Kittles, shotgun ready to bring death to whatever creature would appear.

As he stood solid as the very asteroid, he could feel the belly of Tara's Locust rest on his shoulder, allowing her a more precise and accurate aim. He didn't mind, though it was the first time he had seen thát kind of surface used for support.

"You know, have I ever told you that I don't particularly like sewers?" Magnus asked, trying to break the ice that had frozen over the mood. He really didn't mind striking a conversation while waiting for an enemy charge. Helped lighten the mood, he had found.

"What, afraid of the alligators?" Kittles asked, not looking away from where he pointed the muzzle, even as the howling and growls came closer and rose in intensity. Magnus wagered this was likely why he hated the darkness, but oddly enough, he was nowhere near frightened of having to fight Vorcha. It was when he _couldn't _see his enemies, that he was nervous.

"Fuck off, Kettle. Aim the burns at the bad guys."

"Well, that's one way to… you hear that?" Kittles interrupted himself as a new sound started making its way towards them. Rising above the animalistic howling, the sound of splashes, feet in water, carried through the sewer with an echo.

"That's… a lot of them." Magnus muttered, finger trembling over the trigger. He was starting to feel giddy, once more, at the prospect of finally being able to partake in a turkey-shoot, even if the birds had been replaced by just as ugly mammalian-ish things. Magnus looked behind him, spotting the piss-annoying Turian woman, who also doubled as their medic; "Oi! Tatra! You up for a bet?"

"What about?" She called back, her own shotgun cocked in her more clawed hands.

"Whomever kills the most gets to brag." Though he was shouting to Tuara, he didn't take his eyes from the sewer in front of him. Thank the Aesir for radios.

"Heavy risk, but the priiiize." She chuckled, apparently agreeing. Good, now Magnus just needed to win, and survive, this shit, or he'd be in for an unending period of suffering. Only reason he even came up with the bet was so that _he_ could make _her_ life a living trip to Hel. _If you can't punch 'em, annoy them,_ he thought with a smirk, listening to the splashes and growls coming closer.

"Steady, steady…" Tara's voice came over the comms. Magnus appreciated it, if only because her voice was so unrealistically soothing to his mind. He didn't need the 'steady' part though, as he had been in this spot before. _Though of course, back in Rio, they were muscled hounds, not Vorcha…_

As the first pair of beady eyes, nestled in a hideous skull-like face, came into view, Magnus reconsidered that thought. There was clearly a level of evil in those critters that the dogs of the Favela couldn't quite match. Good thing though, was that the critter was butt-naked, unarmed and unarmored, and was just running towards them with outstretched claws and barred fangs. As it was naked, a few parts were less than attractive to look at._ I did not need to see that, I did not need to see that._

Before the bugger came into reach of Magnus's shotgun, it ended up on the receiving end of a concentrated burst of slugs from Tara's sub-machinegun. More than one went straight into its head, causing one large reptilian eye to explode in orange gore and muck. The thing screeched in agony, but kept running despite the slugs clearly having exited the back of its skull. It wasn't until Kittles put it to the torch, that the creature finally started rolling in the muck, trying to extinguish the flames.

Whatever was in the muck though, was not of a 'quenching' nature, and the liquid seemed to only further the burning of the Vorcha.

"Okay… memo to squad: Don't set the sewer on fire…" Kittles muttered to himself as he checked the level of fuel in his weapon. As the trashing and screaming died down, the group could hear something more disturbing than the single Vorcha trying to kill them.

A whole lot of single Vorcha's trying to kill them.

"You know… I really think that machinegun would have been handy down here…" Magnus muttered to Tara, cocking his shotgun. He had wanted to use incendiary ammunition, and even seeing the way the water reacted with the burning Vorcha didn't make him change his mind. At the same moment, the swarm now came into view, presenting a solid wall of diseased skin and fanged snarls, hateful eyes and sharp claws.

"Less talking, more killing!" Kittles shouted, pulling the trigger on his Firestorm, bathing their front in crimson death.

"Blue Suns!" Tara shouted, joining her own weapon to the fray.

"BLUE SUNS!" The rest of the group echoed in unison, pouring fire at both directions where the Vorcha had tried taking them on both from the front and behind.

The first dozens that made it close enough to present a threat, never made it beyond the reach of the Firestorm, and their lives were burned to a crisp when they were bathed in flaming liquids, the sewer proving to only sustain the flames. Magnus ended up finding himself forced to stare and wait, as Kittles managed to hold the sewer on his own. He knew it wouldn't last though, as the Firestorm didn't carry an unlimited amount of fuel, and soon would run dry.

Almost as if on cue, the flames stopped pouring forth, revealing a carpet of charred bodies and writhing forms just a few meters in front of them. Seeing as the Vorcha wasted no time trampling their dead and dying, neither did the Suns, and Magnus opened up by ripping the head clean off the shoulders of a Vorcha that came just too close.

"Regenerate from thát one!"

Next to him, Kittles had switched to his own shotgun, and was now blasting away with a katana, removing heads, torsos and legs with clumsy, but lethal effectiveness. It was clear that he was used to fighting from inside a cockpit, but that he still at least knew how to handle himself. Behind him, Tara fired burst after burst at the advancing horde, though unsuccessful in killing them with the weapon, she could slow them down sufficiently for the others to finish off.

At a point, her Locust started screaming in protest, and instead of waiting for it to cool down, Tara simply switched to her sidearms, pulling out the heavy pistols with a manner not all that different from what he remembered in the Matrix Series. She held her arms straight and calmly, fingers squeezing off repeated shots that, while each was not worth much, in the rapid firing cut a path through the heads and bodies of the Vorcha outside range of the shotguns.

Magnus found himself snickering at her visage, the bloodthirsty heroine that could kill and kill, relentless, yet compassionate and beyond hot in figure. The cost of his divided attention was made known when one of the Vorcha got close enough to swipe at his head, claws scratching the surface of his helmet. With an angry, and surprised grunt, Magnus kicked the Vorcha's knee in, then blasted its head clean off its shoulders, causing the nearby ferals to cry out in rage.

"Yeaaah! Cry some more!" He yelled, pumping out spreads of slugs into the mass of Vorcha that had yet to get close. Shotguns were remarkably effective at keeping what was essentially space-zombies away. Magnus was laughing as he continued pumping shots into the masses of enemies, and all fear of the darkness was forgotten, replaced by the old, familiar glee that came with taking a life. _Like this, things are easy as pie!_

Magnus' sadistic chuckle as he blew the face from a Vorcha, was interrupted by the sound of his gun overheating. Outside his helmet, one wouldn't be able to hear it over the constant firing of dozens of weapons, including Tara's dual Predators. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

As there was no time to drop the gun, nor pull a sidearm, Magnus was forced to defend himself against a fresh attack by blocking a clawed swipe with his shotgun, resulting in the Vorcha trying to tear it from his grip. _Yeah. You'd like that, wouldn't you?_

He hit the Vorcha in the face with the stock of his weapon, then kicked the creature in the chest, sending it staggering into the Vorcha behind it. Magnus instantly tried firing the Katana, but found it to still be cooling down._ Great… means I'm going to get physical here._

Keeping the shotgun handled like a club in his right hand, Magnus activated his Omnitool on the left arm, clenched his fist for the CQC-command, and watched as the flash-forced heat-knife, or Omniblade as some called it, grew from his upper wrist, folding outwards like the arm of a watch.

Perhaps fearing a new wave of flames, the Vorcha paused for a moment, beady eyes glaring at his arm, processing the new source of light. Even as they seemed to come to the conclusion that it wasn't a new flamethrower, Magnus jumped forward, trusting his armor to keep the worst injuries at bay as he yelled in rage.

"ICELAND COMES FOR YOU!"

The Vorcha poured against him, even as the firing behind him lessened, for fear of hitting a comrade. He could barely hear the shouts of protest and disbelief from his colleagues as he sank the blade of heated carbon into the torso of a snarling Vorcha, removing its upper body from its lower. Instantly, he received what felt like an uppercut to the side of the head, even through the helmet, from the side. _Fine, caution then._

The next swipe, he ducked, his superior training and flexibility a courtesy of the Alliance N7-program. The blade met the offending hand, splitting apart the entire arm that had launched it, before he allowed the blade to simply continue, carving through the Vorcha like through so much butter. Time seemed to slow, as adrenaline kicked in, and his old training flowed through him. Memories, skills, movements and training all seemed natural to him as he avoided swiped and cuts and kicks that could spell issues for his armor. He caved in the skull of a new foe by slamming the butt of his Shotgun into it, causing the feral eyes to pop like zits.

He didn't worry about what was behind him, even as he moved more and more into the masses of enemy creatures. He trusted his comrades to thin out the Vorcha behind him. He trusted them, because he knew each was more than competent, and that for once, he knew he was far from the lone skilled soldier. He knew, even as he spilt the guts of a Vorcha on the ground, cutting open its belly, that he had only once before felt like he really belonged with a crew. Thát life was over though, much as it would likely always pain him to realize it.

"VALHALLA!"

He grinned, beheading a Vorcha in the same swipe he used to cut through one from shoulder to hip, causing boiling innards to splash into the water. As an arm grabbed for him, the muzzle of his shotgun, now fully cooled down, blew the offending creature apart. For some instinctual reason, or perhaps simply logic and fear, the Vorcha now seemed to attempt staying out of his reach, those close to him actually ignoring the continued firing from the other Suns. Dumb idea really, Magnus mused, seeing how the firing ate into the distracted Vorcha. _If I survive this, Tara's most likely going to chew me out for breaking rank… fuck it, I'm having too much fun._

His next victim was a Vorcha that tried tackling him to the ground. He exploited the cretin's momentum, carried it over his shoulder and slammed it into its friends behind him, flattening them with their own…_What are they, flock-mates?_ He stabbed the blade through the bundle of knocked down Vorcha, smirking as he heard their cries of death and agony. Each death was a tribute to the Aesir, he knew, even if he currently just cared about surviving. Material or not, he attributed his second and third lives to the Aesir, as he had yet to be carried off to Valhalla by the Valkyries. One day, he knew, it would happen. Odin would call for him.

Though he revered the Allfather, King of the Gods and God of death, Magnus had a saying. It was a saying that seemed to have lost meaning now, as he had been killed twice already. Still, he used it whenever he could. A shame he was the only one who used it though, as it meant he could never use it with someone else. _Still, what do we say to the God of death?_

As he dodged a new swipe from a particularly big Vorcha, he smirked and stabbed the blade between its eyes, sending it straight to Hel._ 'Not today', is what we say._

The rest of the fight started to blurry out, becoming a seemingly endless repetition of dodging, swiping, shooting and cutting. He felt a bit like back in school, parrying the blade of trainee Leng with his own sword, enjoying the fact that he held, if not bested, the number one close combat fighter in the program. Around him, the Vorcha were getting more and more apprehensive about attacking him, and large scores of their horde were already being mowed down by the deadly precision of the Blue Suns troopers. Magnus had, without fully realizing it, pushed the Vorcha into a large, circular chamber where different sewers met below a new manhole, some ten feet above them.

The Suns were quick to utilize the expanded space, and now more of their numbers filed into the room, assault rifles barking and spewing out incendiary ammunition that cut through the Vorcha, setting them on fire in the process. By now, the creatures were in full flight, animal fear taking over as they desperately sought to escape what had become a full-scale slaughter. Slugs bit into their backs even as they ran, cutting them down as the mere animals they were in the feral state. Dazed by the constant jumping and dodging, Magnus remained where he was, watching the fight pretty much end all around him._ Damn… I'm good._

As the adrenaline started fading, and his senses came back to what could be called "normal", Magnus shook his head and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes against the green artificial light provided by his helmet. He shut off the heat-knife, watching the blade of hot carbon practically vanish into the air. Despite the years of service, he still had no idea how the thing actually worked.

"…fuuuuuck…" He groaned, feeling a stinging sensation on his right hand. Putting away the shotgun, he raised the hand to inspect it. A lot of the armor on the gauntlet had been ruined and ripped off, and the back of his hand was exposed. The skin was torn and bleeding, and he could see the more exposed bones through where the muscle had been torn as well, ruptured veins pumping small streams of blood from the wound; "Figures…"

"Trooper. What the _Hell_ was that?" Tara walked up to him, every fiber in her being and voice radiating command and authority. She was _clearly_ not in 'cute-Tara' mode. Magnus stood from his rest, standing as straight as his adrenaline-hazed head allowed him, while he applied a dosage of Medigel to the wound. No reason in winning the fight if he died of blood poisoning.

"Captain."

"You broke rank, Olafur. You left a hole in the group and you charged into an enemy formation! What the Me'engsk was going through your mind?!" Tara was actually shouting at him now, though her voice somehow seemed to remain in the normal pitch. He was a little annoyed that she admonished him after he just kicked ass, though he knew he had broken formation, and disobeyed an order. _Fuck… thought I'd left this part behind with the Alliance…_

"Captain? I thought we were about to be overrun. I tried, and managed to break up the attack. I didn't realize it would leave gap. Did we…suffer casualties because of me?" He asked, remaining calm. Tara, even as frightening as she currently was, was nothing compared to his old drill-sergeant. He kept this to himself though.

"Thank Keelah, we didn't. All men are accounted for…" Tara said, still obviously pissed, though it now slowly shifted to a more… frustrated tone; "Magnus, what the hell were you thinking? Running in like that?"

"It seemed better than reliving the Alamo." He said, offering a shrug. At Tara's confused expression; "Old battle, everyone died."

"…The only casualties so far are a number of injured. Private Akair is tending to them now, seeing how Mought went with Sidonis. You?" Tara's voice had now shifted into the more personal, but still matter-of-fact she used with him when others were around.

"Fine, really. It was fun." He offered her a grin hidden beneath the helmet. Tara shook her head, as if in disappointment or simple exasperation, and left him to stand. Magnus sighed and rolled his shoulders, looking at the state of his armor.

Most of it was covered in drying blood and gore. Only his sides were still showing the blue armor, while the rest was covered in dark blood, giving of a smell that even his filters couldn't stop from making him gag. In combination with the muck they waded through, the urge to gag was hard to resist. _Great… I look like Deadpool… _

Still, it was more or less intact, and as such he couldn't care less for the aesthetics. Though he was glad he was recognizable from a Blood Pack, even if they never used troops with an IQ above that of a toaster. A thing he found rather interesting, was that while he was a long time out of practice, his skills in close-quarters seemed to have remained what they used to, which was rather useful, he thought. Thee Quarian woman that he felt connected to, a more or less useless word when describing his psyche, gave the signal to proceed through the tunnels. The sewer seemed to stop being a sewer at some point, and now was a humid, but "dry" tunnel that allowed more than five men to walk shoulder to shoulder.

Hearing a small buzz in his ear, Magnus turned on the comms, having a feeling just who it might be. He wasn't disappointed;

"Hey" He said, already knowing it was Tara by the sound of her breathing alone.

"…Hey. Listen, about what happened earlier…" He was surprised to find her voice remained the casual, if professional tone she used around others. _Great, she's pissed._

"I know, I know. Bad call and shit. I just figured something had to happen or we'd be squeezed out of ammo before the Vorcha turned tail." He sighed. He wasn't going to apologize for something he knew had been the right decision, except if it was to make the appearance in front of others that Tara was simply his Captain.

"Yeah… I just… why'd you do it?"

"...Because it seemed a good idea?" He tried, smirking beneath the helmet as they walked. While walking in the darkness, assisted only by either flashlights or night vision sucked, at least he wasn't wading through the muck anymore.

"Dammit… fine, you're off the hook. For now anyways. Just don't do it again, understand?" Tara grumbled, sounding more than a little annoyed with him.

"Do what, risk my life? I knew you cared." He grinned, shaking his head a little at his own joke. Tara's reply was rather dry;

"No, don't break formation again."

"What, so no 'I can't lose you!' or 'Please stay with me' emotional thingies?" He asked, a little surprised at her somewhat short and flat response.

"Why'd I do that?" She shot back, adding to the confusion mounting in his mind. Sighing and pulling the Mattock out instead of his Katana, Magnus looked at the back of the Quarian in a fit of rare bewilderment. _Damn it woman, stop giving me the guilt-trip!_

"Because… eh… because you have the hots for me?" He pondered aloud.

"You've got it all wrong, Olafur. I'm using you for your body." Tara audibly grinned back, causing him to palm his helmet's face. No matter the species, women were just… wrong, in the head at times.

"…What?"

"Yep."

"Seriously?"

"Totally."

"…Damn." He muttered, unsure of how to feel about this. He felt like it was a weird scenario, where he was the vulnerable one, and for that he had gotten injured, wounded. It stung.

Then, he heard Tara snickering over the channel, and was as a result even more confused.

"I'm messing with your head, Magnus. Keelah, who'd have thought you're thát easy to fool?" She laughed. Magnus stared at her, though at her butt mostly, as he couldn't see her face when she was walking in front of him. For a moment, he was unsure what to say or thing about this, about her pulling a practical joke on him. She had toyed with his feelings, but knowing that it was simply a joke made him feel better about it.

In the end, he opted to attribute it to the fact that women, no matter the species, were wrong in the head.

* * *

**Likely, this will be the last chapter in a while. Exams are about to begin, and though I'd like nothing more than flip them off and keep writing, I kinda feel I better devote more time to studying.**

**Remember, I feed on your reviews.**


	4. Project 'Bloodline'

**Well, here we go.**

**This time: Anna reveals secrets, and Magnus kicks some more ass.**

* * *

**Project 'Bloodline'**

* * *

December 24th

SSV Caucasus, Arcturus Station

Station orbit.

23:17

"Isaac? Are you there? Come iiiiiin, Isaac." The playful tone of Nicole Brennan teased. Isaac smiled as his own image appeared on the screen, a haptic display that hung above his bed. Time zones were a bitch, he thought, since it was night on New Canton when it was day on the Caucasus, and vice versa. As a result, he had been rustled from his sleep, the precious few hours he got each cycle, by the incoming call.

Still, considering the caller, he was more than willing to sacrifice some sleep.

"Hey, Honey." He smiled again. Just speaking to her made him smile; "How's my favorite person holding up?" She seemed to waver just a bit at his tired expression though;

"Oh damn it… I didn't wake you, did I?" To which he simply chuckled. It was hard to do anything else, really, when it came to the more flustered and adorable moments of his wife.

"Nah, just went to bed, so not really much loss there. Didn't answer my question, did you now? And how's my mighty heritage coming along?" He grinned at the last part, referring to the fact that Nicole's pregnancy was clearly visible through her colonial outfit.

"Goof." She giggled, giving the display on her end a playful slam, just enough so that he knew she did it; "We're fine, both of us. You know, I think Sophie Rolston is due too."

"Everyone getting pregnant these days?"

"Shut up." Nicole laughed, shaking her head at his rather juvenile remarks. Isaac didn't mind her seeing him as somewhat simple from time to time, as the reactions it caused were some of the more entertaining ones he could provoke from her; "I'm still going to beat her to it. And Isaac?"

"Mmmmyeeess, my queen?" He mused, smiling, struggling to keep his eyes open as his tired body fought his mind for control.

"You damn well better be here for when he comes, you hear me?"

"He? Oh damn, I hoped it would be a little miniature of you. We could call her 'Mini-me'." He chuckled, face split in a shit-eating grin. Nicole sighed in exasperation, probably wondering just where she had gone wrong with the goofball of a husband she had somehow scraped up.

"Please tell me "Lee Riley" is around to knock some sense into your thick skull." Nicole said, shaking her head at Isaac's mock-innocent expression; "Lord knows she's about the only damn person who can hit hard enough."

"You know, you don't have to go with her call-sign when it's just the two of us. I mean, come on, you seemed to like her." Isaac pouted, giving his best imitations of a wrongly accused, mostly due to the comment about his colleague knocking his skull in.

"I do like her. She's the only damn woman I wouldn't suspect of batting eyelashes at you." Nicole smirked, pressing on the fact that she had had to best several other women to get Isaac's attention back then. All worth it, they both agreed on that one.

"Well, she's not around. Got transferred for some R&R on Titan after the whole Incursion-thing was over… think she met a guy there, Kaleb, I think his name was…" He shrugged, trying to remember. Nicole laughed at that, though he wasn't completely sure what exactly she found so funny; "What?"

"Damn… I… sort of thought she… you know… wasn't into men." Nicole actually _blushed_ at that confession, causing Isaac to press a hand over his mouth, so as not to wake his colleagues with his laughing. _So thát's why she never went all jealous._

"…Really?"

"Well she's wearing half a ton of armor. If that doesn't scream 'masculine', I don't know what does." Nicole tried, rubbing the bridge of her nose in slight annoyance. Isaac's brow twitched;

"So… you mean you think I look… 'Masculine' too?" He asked in mock-obviousness, flexing a muscled arm for her amusement. As a result, Nicole snorted in laughter, palming her face in a gesture of resignation. In the background on her end of the transmission, Isaac could hear someone call Nicole's name.

"You really are beyond all help, Isaac." She mused, smiling fondly at him. He shrugged and smiled back;

"Is why you love me."

"Damn you…" Nicole giggled; "Alright, Emma's calling. Gotta go Isaac, love you."

"Love you too, Nicole." He smiled and returned the kiss she blew his way. Then the transmission ended, and he was once more in the darkness of his small room.

Isaac closed his eyes and relaxed, smiling at the fortunes bestowed upon him. Even when the galaxy seemed to go to hell in a mix of wars and Reapers trying to attack the Citadel, he had Nicole. And soon, if he was lucky, a daughter too.

Or a son. He'd be happy with a son too.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Docking bay L-3, Blue Suns shuttle.

23:18

"Arcturus docking bays, last stop." The Blue Suns pilot, a Turian, called from his seat. The shuttle was one of two, making up the entire surviving crew of the Normandy. Both shuttles were completely blue, with a white circular symbol on the side. As the shuttles disgorged their cargo, Thomas stepped out into the gargantuan station, looking around with eyes weary and tired.

The docking bay was bustling with life, despite the late hour. A small 'beep' signaled his Omnitool automatically adjusting to the time on the station, rather than the Blue Suns vessel. Now it had gone from 22:11 to 23:18, just another reason to hate different time zones. One of the first things to catch Thomas' eye, was the sleeping redhead currently slumped in one of the cushioned chairs, lightly snoring in complete obliviousness to the world. Thomas stopped when he saw her, a small familiar light in the darkness that was loss. He wanted to go to her, wanted to just cry out on her shoulder. Family was family, no matter how strange and fucked up it happened to be.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked behind him to see a just as weary and battered Jane, who nonetheless managed a thin smile;

"Go ahead. Shore-leave until further notice."

He was surprised and confused by the gesture, but decided that he really didn't care much at this point. He had, in his eyes, failed everyone by not saving John, though he still had no memory of what exactly had happened. Roku, the aspect actually being apparently innocent in the death of the commander, had offered a few guesses, though none were even close to plausible in Thomas' mind. He nodded numbly to himself, seeing how Jane had already moved on. Ash was still standing by him.

She always had, ever since their first meeting had she been there for him, and he for her. She was his rock, his safe harbor in the storm, and yet… right now, Thomas felt he needed Anna more than Ashley, odd as he knew it was.

"Want me to stay with you?" She asked, seeing him look at the old admiral with a longing she herself knew from when her dad had used to come home from long tours. It was the longing for family, and she knew that Anna was it for him, regardless of love and relationships.

"I…don't know…" He muttered. On one side, he wanted to just be alone with his sister, to cry and sob into her shoulder and find the comfort only family could offer. On the other hand, he desperately loved Ashley, and being separated from her always made him feel… incomplete.

Ashley however, solved his predicament by kissing him on the cheek;

"It's okay. I'll see if Tali needs any help." She said with a smile, one he found himself returning, if ever so weakly. Gods knew Tali needed help right now, though if she would accept it was another thing altogether.

He sighed at the thought, mind racing with all the issues and catastrophes the crew currently struggled with. Tali had lost her bondmate, bonded or not, and most likely was still sobbing her heart out in the other shuttle, seeing how he hadn't seen her step out of it yet. Jane lost a valued colleague, at least he was pretty sure she had valued John, and the crew had lost friends and loved ones… all because he hadn't managed to get his shit together and issue a complete red alert. _Once more… secrets, it's always the secrets that kill those I care about!_

As the rest of the crew dispersed, most to find a bar and drown their frustrations, the shuttles lifted off and Thomas found himself alone on the docks, looking at his sister, snoring lightly in the cushioned chair in the waiting area. He walked over to her, and sat down in a chair next to hers. As his sister was still sleeping, Thomas took the rare opportunity to study, really study his sister's face.

Her eyes had dark bags beneath them, signs of sleep-deprivation as well as more wrinkles than the last time he had seen her. There were a lot more grey stains in her hair, slowly winning out against the shrubbery that was her messy red hair. Her cheeks were more gaunt, like something had sapped the hyperactive old woman of her energy and strength since the last time he'd seen her. Her snoring on top of this, was as undignified for an admiral as could be, yet so utterly _Anna_.

"Anna?" He tried carefully waking her from the slumber. Anna stirred, but remained snoring and slightly salivating as well. Thomas found it to be a funny sight, despite all that had happened, and thoughts of crying his heart out became less and less relevant.

"Anna?" He whispered, gently pushing her shoulder.

"Kill 'em all…" She muttered and started blinking, eyes open but not really seeing anything yet, as she seemed to try focusing on the person next to her; "Kill… Thomas?"

"…Hey." He muttered, giving her a small smile; "How-"

He was interrupted by the fierce embrace his sister, an old psychopath by anyone's account, who hugged him as close as humanly possible. Once more, Thomas was taken completely by surprise at the gesture of intimacy and comfort shown by his sister, and yet again, he wasn't sure _why_ this was. In the end, he returned the hug, once more feeling tears press against his eyes.

Suddenly, Anna seemed to realize what she was doing, and ended the hug with the same abruptness as it had been initiated;

"…Fuck… Thomas, I… I'm glad you're alive."

"…Anna…" He muttered, still fighting to keep the tears down. He was the big brother, he wasn't supposed to start crying… what a bunch of bullshit thát rule was. Right now, he felt like crying and smiling at the same time, which resulted in his expression being rather strange, causing his sister to laugh weakly.

"…What happened out there?"

He looked down at his feet, trying to figure out how to explain it to his sister that the Collectors were already a threat, right after she had lost thousands of lives defeating a small flotilla of Reapers trying to prepare for the actual invasion. Most of all, he was embarrassed by the fact that she would know he had failed protecting John.

"…We…we were attacked by something new." He started, then decided to give fuck-it-all about the consequences, and launched into an explanation as detailed as he possibly could, about what had happened, about who and what the Collectors were. He refrained from going near the actual events around the SR-2, as he knew Cerberus was nowhere near interested in reviving John, not to mention give them a ship like that. In the end, Anna sat back with a more or less complete understanding of what the Collectors most likely were and planned, and had no real clue as to how to react.

"…fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck." She groaned, palming her forehead; "Great Scot… we just go from one massive galactic _fuck-up_ to another, don't we?"

"I guess…"

"They saw through your stealth-field?"

"I think so… I lost my memory of the entire attack…but yes."

"Makes sense, I suppose. They'd need some pretty powerful scanners to stalk ships across an entire cluster, much less a system…." Anna said, taking a hand to the small piece in her ear, nodding to something said on the other end; "Right…Yeah I get it. I _know_, Price. I said I'll get to that already…Jesus."

Thomas just looked at her in a small amount of confusion, but didn't speak. She was a high-ranking military officer, so it was obvious she had a lot on her plate, hence the bags beneath her eyes and gaunt cheeks. Anna turned to him;

"Alright. We're trying to get this mess sorted out, but in the meantime, I'd like the lot of you to remain on the station. Consider yourselves on shore leave, that sort of thing…try not getting someone pregnant, in case shit suddenly hits the fan." She spoke with a level of casualness that one would expect from someone mentioning the weather. Thomas blushed furiously at the reference to his and Ashley's activities, but kept silent as Anna continued;

"About the Normandy… I'm sorry. It was a piss-expensive ship, and I figure a lot of good people died." She muttered, sounding genuinely sad about it. Then, she clapped her hands together and changed mood on a cent; "Now then, given any thoughts to the Ascension-thing?"

Thomas was momentarily dumbfounded, staring at Anna like she had grown an extra head, then realized _who_ he was talking to, and shook his head;

"I don't know… I know you think they could make me some sort of super-soldier, but…"

"-You don't want to leave what you've got, personal as it is, and little as it might be." Anna nodded, appearing to be understanding his thoughts.

"I…I… Yes, I guess so… But, it's not just that. I want to kill the fuckers who did this, and I can't do that-"

"From the space-version of a board school. I get that. I don't see your robot-god friend around. Shame, if he died too." Anna said, leaning back in the chair.

"Roku? He's fine, fine… I think. He's intact, if that's what you mean…why?"

"Just thinking… he could, in theory, manage your training. Keep you with Corporal Aquila then, and have Wrex and Roku keep training you… though, there might be an issue there…"

"What?" He asked, to which Anna just sighed and shook her head;

"Can't go into too much detail, but I don't plan on Wrex hanging around in Alliance Space for much longer. A month, tops." It was rare that Thomas saw Anna mulling things over. Actually, it was rare he even saw her, but that was entirely beside the point. His mind spun with what little information she had given him, and utterly failed to remember being distraught over the feeling of failure he had been consumed by since waking up on the Blue Suns cruiser.

And then, it snapped.

"You're sending him to Tuchanka… you want someone you trust to rule the Krogans!" He exclaimed, though in a hushed tone. Didn't seem to matter to his sister though, as she promptly slapped a hand over his mouth.

"You know… sometimes I really think being a deviously smart bastard is genetic. We both seem to have it." She grinned, releasing his mouth. Thomas widened his eyes and stared at her, amazed that he had been right. Then, he was even more amazed when he realized what he had been right about.

"Don't tell me…" He started, trailing off at Anna's amused smirk. She seemed completely unbothered by discussing military strategies in the middle of a docking bay.

"Tell you what? He _is_ the only Krogan I trust."

"…You're going to bring _them_ in too?"

"Well… They _are_ sort of the most violent, badass and warmongering soldiers in this galaxy aside from humans. So yeah, I wouldn't mind commanding a battalion of Krogans. Especially if we can make them all pack the same punch as old Wrex." Anna admitted, laughing as she got up from her chair; "Come, I need to show you something, _and_ there's someone you need to meet."

Thomas blinked rapidly in confusion, then nodded, stretched and followed his sister as she led him through the station. When they stopped, they didn't end up in Anna's office, as Thomas had expected, but rather in what seemed to be a laboratory the size of a small city, with researchers, scientists and what-not walking about, doing what Anna described as 'science-stuff'.

"So… you have a team of scientists working for you?"

"More like an army really, but yeah. The breakthroughs these people have made so far… we're alive because of them." Anna said, gesturing at the more than expensive-looking equipment standing around, whirring as it was put to use, or shining with laser as it did 'stuff'.

"So… what are we doing here?" Thomas asked after a few minutes of stupefied silence. Anna nodded, as if answering something, then walked to a table nearby, where a woman stood with skin much the same as the little girl Jennifer had met in the swimming hall.

"Doctor Cole?" Anna said, a certain amount of command in her voice. The woman in question snapped around, clearly surprised at seeing Anna. Thomas could sympathize, as Anna tended to surprise him as well.

"Admiral. I didn't expect… how can I help you?" the woman said, then seemed to notice Thomas as well.

"Doctor, this here's Thomas Fisher, my nephew." At the name, Thomas noticed something like a light shining in the doctor's eyes, and the old fear of being dissected was suddenly reemerging in his mind.

"You… Service Chief Fisher, it is an honor meeting you in person. A lot more than just going over the vids and tests and…" At Anna's hard stare, the woman stopped talking, leaving Thomas _even more_ confused, if that was even possible at this point. He numbly accepted and shook the hand she held for him, and was amazed at the sheer energy in her handshake.

"Okay… what am I missing?"

"Thomas. Doctor Cole here is in charge of the scientists under my command, and as such she is on my direct payroll. What you are about to hear is confidential to the highest level, and not even your girlfriend can be told of it. Also, all blame should fall on me, not her." Whatever smile Thomas had held just earlier was now gone, replaced by a confused frown.

"…Okay?"

"Cole. Explain Project Bloodline, if you please." The word 'Bloodline' made his skin crawl for some reason, as did the hesitation in the doctor as she spoke;

"Yes, you see… Service Chief…"

"Just call him Thomas, Brynn. I do all the time, even his bloody comma- Captain calls him Thomas." Anna broke in. Cole seemed used to this, and continued;

"You see, Thomas… one of my team's major projects for the past month, thirty-seven days to be exact, has been concerning you." She took a breath, then continued; "Ever since the discovery of the amazing power you hold, what we call the Flammable Exhaust Energy , or FEE for short, Admiral Fisher has had us trying to discern the secrets of it, how to unlock and copy it, mainly." Thomas snapped around and stared at Anna, eyes wide;

"You…WHAT?!"

"Go on, Doctor." Anna simply said, ignoring his outburst.

"So far, we haven't been able to figure out more than it is inlaid in the DNA itself, coating the bases of each string with what appears to be a filter of highly concentrated polysaccharides, what is mostly known as sugar. This is the one difference we can discern so far, however… it didn't make sense for it to do anything but deliver a huge risk to the subject… Without Price, we'd have simply called it. But…"

"You can tell him. To be honest he's probably an expert on the field anyway."

"Right… Well, Price, our resident SAI-construct decided to look around in every single record concerning you, plus every piece of surveillance available. This, as you might suspect, involved a fair amount of hacking and illegal entrance into private systems… the Normandy's included."

"I don't think I like where this is going…" Thomas muttered, eyes darting between Anna and Brynn.

"We came across a file from the surveillance of the Medbay, containing you, corporal Teresa Aquila, Doctor Karin Chakwas and a geth. The last one made a few of us jump a bit, but the explanation offered to the corporal and you was… frankly, just what we needed." Cole explained. Thomas slapped his forehead, dragging his fingers across his face.

"So, the project was rebooted, original ideas were scrapped, and instead we set out to mapping the tertiary system of arteries in the human body. The arteries that weren't there on any medical scans… but when we put an electrical current to the sample, it-"

"Wait, wait, wait! Sample?" Thomas gawked, now glaring at his sister once more. She looked back at him and smiled, rubbing her neck like some naughty child.

"Hey, I work to save Humanity. If I've gotta have some blood drawn in the process…"

"You violated me in my sleep?"

"No! Of course not!" Anna protested, then added; "I had Wrex do it" This time, Thomas stared at her with open mouth, wide eyes and heaving breath, unable to process what she had just said.

"This is so fucked up…" He groaned, palming his face again. Cole, at the very least, seemed sympathetic to his distress.

"Cole. Focus. Results?" Anna snapped, causing the younger woman to resume speaking.

"So far, we've been able to construct a full simulation of your body, based on the DNA recovered from the blood sample." Cole said, pulling up a large, holographic display, like a pane of glass. On it, a human-sized transparent person was displayed naked, though without reproductive organs. Thomas was thankful for the last part.

"We then ran a simulation where we made the brain produce a signal, an emotion to be precise. The spike of electricity was much like what is seen with human biotics, and revealed an, until now, completely unknown tertiary system of arteries, which I mentioned earlier." She said, paused and then added for good measure; "Needless to say, this is a scientific milestone."

"What she says is that we want to replicate your powers." Anna said; "The fact that they still work _after_ Roku left your body, means they are bound to your body. Either we activate the same genes in our other soldiers, or we find what made them in you, and copy the shit out of it."

Thomas just stared at her, a flat, confused and disbelieving stare that pretty much said just one thing: 'What?' It was the entire situation that rendered him utterly dumbfounded and in a stupor, unable to immediately process what had just happened.

Especially the fact that Anna had just said, out in the open and with witnesses that Roku had been _inside_ him. Doctor Cole nodded at Anna's explanation;

"Yes. That is so far the general plan, and we are making headway with mapping the system of channels we believe to be responsible for the flow of "Chi" as this 'Roku' called it. We're currently still in the starting stages, but with the groundwork laid, I believe it should be simply, if long-term work."

"This is really, really fucked up… Didn't Roku tell you my powers couldn't be shared?" Thomas exclaimed, looking at Anna like she had done him a personal offense. In a way, she sort of had.

"Yeah, he did. And, I believed him until I saw Corporal Aquila rip a plate of solid titanium from the floor. So, not much trust for "Sifu Flameo" from my corner." Anna mused. Cole raised a brow at this, but otherwise remained neutral on the point, choosing instead to move on;

"Be that as it may. Seeing how the apparent creator of this power named it "Chi", the department has been pulling books on the subject from pretty much any source we could get to. Again, with the help of our SAI." She said, picking up a datapad from the nearby table. To the surprise of Thomas, she handed it to him;

"…What"

"The files here should contain everything practical we have learned so far. We'll spare you the philosophical part, but this should prove helpful to you, in case we actually hit the mark on the whole "Chi" thing. If not…" Cole shrugged; "At least you'll have something enlightening to read in the free hours."

Thomas stared at the datapad in his hand, trying to hold it so hard that pain started appearing in his fingers. _Damn… it's not a dream then…_

* * *

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns territory, upper sewers

20:11

"Coming up on the lower sewers exit…"

"_Affirmative. Fighting has died down on top…"_ The voice of the Turian came through on the comms. Magnus looked ahead as he walked, hands on his Mattock, scanning the corridor ahead of them. While there was still no light aside from what they brought with them, the corridor was at least mostly dry, except for where small puddles of water were collecting beneath leaking pipes.

He followed as Tara led them through the corridors and into the slums, emerging in what was essentially hostile territory. Behind them, the barking of gunfire could still be heard as the Suns battled their attackers, most likely the same type they themselves had fought in the sewers. In that case, the ones calling the shots would be the Blood Pack, if he remembered anything about who used what sort of troops.

Not that Magnus really feared the other groups. He'd been in special forces long enough to fight all three organizations, his own included.

The Suns used precision, discipline and heavy weapons. Most, if not all of them had military backgrounds, and the Suns was the organization most like a regular military. The three species usually employed in them were Humans, Turians and now Quarians.

The Blood Pack was more of a 'Zerg-rush' kind of thing, far as he knew. Most of them were Vorcha, hired or bred for the single purpose of being cannon fodder. The Vorcha were resilient, which was just about the only nice thing he could say about them. Other than that, they were rats on two legs. Commanding the Vorcha, there would often be a dozen Krogans for each hundred Vorcha, plus an undetermined number of attack-Varren.

The Eclipse, Magnus outright _despised_. They were everything wrong with a mercenary organization, and each member took its place by killing someone from the outside. Ideally it had to be from an enemy group, but the easiest and most common method was to simply murder an innocent civilian. Hence why he despised them more than the Blood Pack, who only wanted to fight what could give them an actual fight in return. Salarians, Asari and humans were in the Eclipse, which sadly meant that the whole "killing humans" thing wasn't over for Magnus yet.

He was brought from his thoughts as rounds slammed into the walkway around them, fired by incoming hostiles using the corners and nooks for cover. Magnus saw flashes of yellow, humanoid shapes. _Speak of the Devil, and he'll come running to say 'hi'._

"Contact!" One of the Suns yelled. The team threw themselves into the fight, returning fire from exposed positions against an enemy that almost seemed to have been waiting for them. _Figures… first it's Vorcha, then Eclipse…_

Rolling into cover behind a sky-car, that Magnus quite frankly had no idea how had been parked down in the slums in the first place, he weathered the barrage of slugs hammering his cover, waiting for the enemy to overheat. In the meantime, his own Mattock was brought to a stand against his chest. Next to him, Kittles and another trooper, a Turian, ducked behind the same vehicle as him.

"You know…" Magnus said with a calm voice, inwardly counting the seconds until the barrages, even if the Eclipse took turns, would end; "I was just going over what I didn't like about the Eclipse. And what do you know, here they are."

The firing didn't stop, but lessened in intensity, and Magnus took thát moment to lean out of cover, aim down his sights and squeeze out a torrent of semi-automatic slugs from his Mattock. On the receiving end of the rounds was an Asari merc, yellow armor and symbols marking her as an initiate of the group. As such, this was likely why she failed to fall behind cover as the first round hammered her shields, youthful belief that she was invincible.

Only when the shields sparked and died at the sixth shot, did it seem logical to her to pull back into cover, even as the seventh shot cracked her helmet's front and sent her sprawling backwards across the floor, yelping in shock.

Unrelenting, Magnus exploited this to coldly put a round into her leg, changing the yelp of surprise to a scream of agony, as the shin exploded from the hit. Magnus grinned as he fired another round, this one embedding itself in her thigh, likely splintering the bones in the leg. He saw nothing wrong with dragging out the death of a girl that was, species-wise, a mere teen. He didn't really mind because she was a merc.

He cracked the helmet completely with the next shot, even as the girl's comrades tried hauling her into cover, using the blood oozing from her wounds as a way to make her glide easier.

"I don't think so…" He smirked, planting a round right between the girl's eyes, spraying the floor behind her with pink brain matter and skull fragments. The girl was dropped in the same moment, her comrades going back to spraying violent, brash and inaccurate fire at the advancing Suns.

"ECLIPSE FORE-!"

A volley from the muzzle of a Blue Suns Vindicator rifle cut through the throat of the shouter, another woman and probably Asari to boot. The yell to arms ended in a gurgling cry as the spine was shattered while the jugular ruptured and hosed the front of the hardsuit with purple blood. The Eclipse fired back, and next to Magnus, Kittles received a volley that shattered his shields and tore into his left shoulder, sending the man to the ground with a howl of pain. Not wanting to risk the same fat upon Kittles as he had visited upon the Asari merc, Magnus hauled Kittles back into cover, while the Turian provided covering fire against the Eclipse.

A distorting of sound, like air folding in on itself, reminded Magnus of another reason he hated the Eclipse. As he hauled Kittles back behind cover, a downward-curving warm splashed the Turian trooper, as well as the car they stood behind. The tearing gravity reduced the Turian's head to a mass of exploding purple droplets of tissue, and left a spherical hole in the sky-car.

"BLUE SUNS, YOU BOSH'TETS!" Tara yelled in anger, causing the entire team to open fire in unison at her shout. The suppressive fire was nowhere near sufficient to kill off the Eclipse mercs, but as Magnus glanced at Tara, he realized the rounds weren't intended for killing. Not solely anyway.

As the Eclipse hugged the walls and covers, a series of small _clanks_ and _dings_ could be heard over the almost constant gunfire. Corporal Sendala snapped to look around her cover, only to come face to face with a small, spherical device that rolled to a stop a mere foot from her, emitting a series of beeps. A scream of panic welled up in her throat, but was snuffed as the throat itself was torn to shreds in the ensuing explosion, sharing the fate of most of the force sent to ambush the Blue Suns.

"Push forward! Check your sectors and execute any stragglers. We need to link up with Team Beta on the other side." Tara commanded. With military precision, the Suns moved out of cover, laying down a constant suppressive fire that kept most enemy hugging their cover. As Magnus reached where he figured at least one was hiding.

He was proven correct when the Asari in mention jumped from cover, her face concealed by the yellow helmet, so similar to his own, were it not for the coloring scheme. The woman's warcry was changed into that of surprise and shock when he kicked her in the chest. His foot remained on her front as he rode her to the floor, stomping on her armored hardsuit. He could feel the strange sensation of having his foot stuck in a biotic field, the buzzing as the warping energies swatted his boot from her chest. The gravimetric energies sent him to the floor himself, a hard clatter of armor on ground signaling his impact. The woman was on him almost instantly, fist curled and encased in biotic energies, prepared to spread the contents of his helmet across the ground.

Magnus' right fist shot up, hitting the underside of her wrist with enough force to break the weak protection around it. The Asari cried out in pain as her hand was numbed, nerves stunned by the pain of breaking bones. As Magnus reached for his sidearm, the Asari smashed her head, helmet and all, into his head, metal and ceramics hitting protection of equal value as helmets met.

It just so happened that Magnus was stronger.

With a quick and brutal punch to the throat, Magnus sent the woman coughing and hissing away from him, allowing him enough leeway to kick her in the head, reversing their positions as her barrier dropped and she fell to the floor, a startled yelp of pain coming from her like a hoarse whisper, betraying the fact that his fist had overcome the protection linking the helmet to her hardsuit.

Magnus clenched his fist and unfolded the Omniblade on his left wrist, plunging the searing blade through the helmet, spearing the brain and carving through neural matter in the blink of an eye. The hissing of evaporating grey matter could be heard as the start of her scream was ended, leaving him in a strange silence. The woman's thrashing ended almost immediately, with only the post-mortem spasms and twitches raking the body. Magnus retracted the blade, grinning at the stainless surface of the scorching carbon. There really was something to be said about using weapons the temperature of a furnace; It didn't leave a spot of blood on the blade. Around him, much the same was happening between the Suns and the Eclipse.

Proof of the Suns' superiority was given when only four engagements of this type ended with the death of the Suns trooper, requiring the gunpoint of another trooper to execute the Asari. The only trooper he actually saw die, was when the man tried putting a bullet through the head of the pinned Asari, only to lose most of his innards from the centered warp kicked into him by the woman. There hadn't even been a scream, as much as a grunt of surprise from the man, as he fell to the ground with a thud of ceramics hitting metallic floor.

Looking at the bodies of his dead comrades, Magnus took the small solace that he hardly knew them, and that if he ever found out their identities, he wouldn't remember a face distorted by agony and surprise. He'd found more than once that ignorance really _was_ bliss, and that he would not care for those he never knew. This was one of the reasons, one of many, why people tended to view him as a cynical bastard.

Tara checked the corpse at her feet, a young Asari in the armor of a sergeant, likely the leader of the squad. The woman held an expression of shock on what remained of her face. Most of the skull was scattered behind the body, with just the lower face remaining, as well as a glazed over eyeball rolling in its socket. The Quarian woman found the eyeball both disturbing and curious to look at, with how it looked upwards, as if searching for the forehead that had been blown away by one of Tara's slugs exploding the skull and brain into a shower of gore. Tara's interest was held by a few seconds, then she kicked the dead merc over, splaying her corpse face-down, and planted a foot on her back.

"Take thát, Bosh'tet." She growled. Tara liked to view herself as a sympathetic person, and carried compassion towards most people she met, even if she tended to hide it behind a mask of professionalism and coolness. However, when it came to rivaling mercs, she had no intention of showing even a hint of mercy. She kicked the body again for good measure, eyes on the men who had died under her command. Thresher, Simons, DeWitt, Altus, Harker and Montea. Good men all of them, even if they hadn't been an actual crew until a year back, Tara still knew and had trusted each as a comrade.

She offered a prayer to the Ancestors for the souls of her men, then kicked then dead Asari again, just because. She really didn't feel like she needed a reason to kick someone who killed one of her men. Looking around, she observed her troops strip the dead Eclipse ambush for heat sinks, weapons and Omnigel. She herself had already relieved the dead Asari of her Omnitool, a Nexus variant that was, quite frankly and embarrassingly, better than her own. She saw Magnus admire his Omniblade, having just pulled it from the skull of the Asari he had fought, and felt a flutter of heat at the sight of him like that, all ready and spattered with Asari blood.

"Hayfield, Kittles. Take the wounded back to base. The rest of us will proceed as planned and link up with Operative Sidonis' group at the other end of the slums. Keelah Se'lai." She nodded at the men.

"Roger that, Captain. Good luck." Hayfield replied, folding his rifle back onto his back before hoisting one of the wounded, a Turian, on his shoulder. Kittles supported another while keeping his shotgun out. It was obvious that the man was in some amount of pain from the wound he had sustained in the shoulder, and Tara both admired and was annoyed at the fact that he soldiered through it, ignoring the tissue damage it could cause him later on. Still, she wasn't going to complain about them following orders.

The team had started out thirty strong when the ambush had sprung, now it was down to sixteen, with six dead and the others injured. Ancestors, how she hated Eclipse. With a sigh, she turned to regard what fighting force she had left;

"Alright, break's over. Move out."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it :)**

**The story could always use some more reviews, just saying... and now I started begging... great, I had hoped I wouldn't start begging until at least chapter 7... oh well, as long as you enjoy it. Remember, the story is interactive, so thoughts and comments are taken into account.**

**On a side-note: Damn, Nicole and Isaac are difficult to write.**


	5. Drill it in!

**Break in the finals. Yay!**

**I have a few days till the next one, about four actually, so I have the time to post this. Not sure if it counts as a filler or something akin to an action-chapter though. We're starting with the intersection between ME1 and ME2, because dang if this wouldn't be a long story with both a full two-years between, plus the entire altered, warped and hopefully canon-raped story-line of ME2. Now, like with the first story, the main elements will likely be the same, what with the Council being complete jerk-offs, the Collectors being space-boogymen and Harbinger being a general bitch, but there'll also be A LOT of new shit going on... sorry, trying to cut down on the profanities... not going so well. **

**I can imagine a lot of people are busy with their own finals currently, which could be why there aren't thát many people reviewing, so I'll just wish those of you who are struggling with finals, like me, "bad luck" because saying good luck results in the opposite, so wishing bad luck should be a good thing... I dunno.**

**This time: Christmas-cards, reflections, knees to the gut and more Chi-stuff.**

* * *

**Drill it in!**

* * *

December 25th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment D-5, rented by: Thomas. V. Fisher, Ashley. M. Williams

01:05

Thomas lay awake, staring at the ceiling above him. He tried telling himself that it was simple insomnia, the same type that had plagued him for years prior to landing on Eden Prime. He had always taken medicine for it, melatonin to help calm the nerves and settle down in a steady rhythm of breathing. He hadn't had a chance, nor a reason to even look for a pharmacy since the start of his new life, mainly because the constant fighting and drilling tended to leave him exhausted and drop-dead tired at the end of the day._ Let me sleep…_

He sighed, trying to fight the yawn mounting in his throat. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, leaving him both cooled and frustratingly hot, even as the climate-control of the apartment gave off a soft hum in the corner. It really was more of a lullaby than it was a factor of annoyance, and a funny little thing that hadn't changed a bit in more than two hundred years. _Please Gods, let me sleep…_

Next to him, the naked form of his girlfriend shifted slightly, as if reacting to his frustrations. Ashley's presence gave him a small smile, as did the snoring sounds she emitted, just soft enough that it still classified as snoring, but nowhere near what he remembered from his childhood, sharing the same bedroom as his parents. _Right… so much has happened since then… Child, Student…dead, alive, soldier, some kind of firebender…_

What bothered him more than anything else at the moment, and likely the cause of his insomnia as well, was the fact that he was once more keeping secrets from the woman he loved more than life itself. Ashley had asked him how the meeting had gone, what Anna said and such, and he had said she only wanted to catch up. Stupid, stupid thing to do. He had already learned so, so many times that secrets got people killed, the people he cared about no less. It was the universe's way of spitting him in the face whenever it got the chance, he guessed. So far, what positive changed could he _possibly_ lay claim to? What had he done to validate his existence so far? John was dead, Garrus was dead, Sev and Fixer were dead, the whole of Noveria was dead. Families had been shattered, broken. The entire colony of Eden Prime had been slaughtered because he had kept secrets. Tali had almost died in the clinic because he kept her a somewhat-secret from John… _What the fuck am I doing with people's lives?_

A soft glow suddenly shone from his Omnitool, the device recharging on the floor next to the bed. At first he simply thought it was recharged, but the fact that it kept glowing told him there was a message on the thing. The first thought to go through his mind was concerning the mental stability of whomever dared text someone at shit-o'clock in the night. Thomas blinked, reaching out for the gadget whilst doing his best to remain still, as to not wake up Ashley. Fingers closed around the device, he rolled slightly over to view the thing while keeping the soft glow from shining on his girlfriend.

Message received. _Huh… you don't say._

Origin: Stockholm, Sweden, Europe, Earth. _Wait… wait…_ his mind was starting to catch up now, mental gears whirring into place and motion as his brain started going over what it was supposed to connect those words- _Oh fuck me! I completely forgot!_

"_Hi Thomas and Mrs. Williams and Tali and Nikolai and Jon and Mrs. Tekila and mister Garrus and Santa and Silly-Boss and Scorch and miss Liara."_ The message started, and Thomas could practically hear Jennifer's voice as she put in the words, probably helped by her mother. The mention of Garrus and John brought him a spike of grief though.

"_It's Christmas here, and I got some really cool stuff. A HAMSTER! Mum gave me a hamster, and dad came home too and he started crying when he saw me, and I cried too, but not as much as him but still. I have a family again, and I can hug my parents and sleep in their bed. They didn't let me do that before, but now they want me to, and it's really nice too."_ The thin smile on Thomas's lips grew a little bigger as his chest tightened up with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"_I wanted to have Christmas with you too, and have fun on the ship like we did, and then mum could meet Joker and Dad could meet people too. He's a soldier, so he could help too, right? But mum said we can't have Christmas on a spaceship because you don't have holidays, which I think is really sad. I named my hamster 'Wrex'. Can you tell him that? Because it's red, with red hair and it looks like him so I named it Wrex, even though it's actually a girl, but don't tell Wrex that, because then he could get sad that I think he's a girl. Mum says it's a good name too."_ The mention of Wrex made Thomas frown, as he remembered what Anna had revealed to him, namely that Wrex had at some point snuck off with some of _his_ blood, apparently under orders from Anna. Which again beggared the question, just who Wrex was working for. The who, of course, was starting to seem the obvious 'Anna', but Thomas still wasn't sure that was even logical. What would she have to offer him that… No, that was pretty obvious too. Anna had probably promised Wrex a way to return to Tuchanka. _My family is well and truly fucked in the head._

"_Hello"_ The new "tone" in the message caused Thomas to frown as he kept reading_ "My name is Niels Bjorn, and you saved my daughter's life. I can never truly repay you for that, and I know you don't even know me, and frankly I'm not used to writing this type of messages, so bear with my informality, I figure thát much is allowed here. I do not know the details of what happened exactly, only that I suddenly get a call from home, with my wife crying through the transmission, and I start fearing what could be wrong. Then, I get the single most impossible news a father can receive: My daughter is home. My daughter came home, alive and unharmed, because of what _you_ did for her. Jennifer tells of angels and fire and people who hurt her, and then you. I suppose it isn't really my place to ask, not after everything you have done for us… but, Thomas Fisher… I am just… so, so glad, so… renewed, alive, that my daughter is home again. If I ever meet you, I suspect I just might kiss your feet. My daughter is alive and safe, because of you. Merry Christmas, Thomas Fisher. - Corporal Niels Bjorn, Alliance 101__st__ Riflemen."_ The last bits of the message started becoming hard to read, and it wasn't until Thomas tried wiping the Omnitool that he realized, the blurriness wasn't from the tool, but from his watery eyes.

The message had come as if on cue, at the moment where his doubt was eating away at him, guilt racking his mind and grief tugging at his heart. There truly was _one_ thing he had changed for the better, one family he had brought back together instead of tearing it apart. Though it had cost him time, great effort and pain, Thomas knew he would go through Teltin all over again if he had to. The simple, heartfelt message he had just read proved that. It proved that he actually had some merit.

For a moment, he considered waking Ashley up, to show her the message. After a few seconds of listening to her breathing though, he thought better of it and rolled over to write a reply, with what meager words he could come up with, as he doubted anything could compare to having one's child back. Message sent, as well as a wish of Merry Christmas and omission of the disaster that had happened, he turned off the Omnitool and dropped it back down for a recharge. Eyes now turned to the ceiling once more, he blinked the tears from his eyes. _So… it wasn't all for nothing…_

With a happy sigh, he slowly, carefully rolled over and placed his hands around Ashley's stomach, feeling her warmth spread from her to him, utterly different that the heat that had plagued him before. Relaxing his chin against the back of her head, Thomas slipped into a sleep that was more satisfying than any he had experienced for the past week.

* * *

December 30th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Refurbished training facility.

15:22

A major sign that the Alliance brass, or at least the ones who knew about the whole powers-thing, took it seriously, was the fact that what had earlier simply been a vacant storage area Roku had found suitable for training, had now been completely redesigned. Every single crate and crane and piece of equipment had been removed. The floor had been covered in a thick layer of inflammable rubberlike material, the walls as well and the adjacent room had been remade for the purpose of allowing spectators to look on as the training took place, complete with a one-point-four inches bulletproof glass pane to protect said spectators from anything flying their way. A row of Spartan seats were placed there, enough for a small crowd to comfortably follow the utter rape of science as fire and steel was tossed around with little regards to the fact that humans weren't supposed to punch fire or tear titanium.

"_**Faster!"**_ Currently, the spectating room was empty, but the training one was not, which was illustrated when the geth platform dodged a fresh series of fiery punches, each one blazing with the color of emerald. With dexterity supposedly impossible for a machine, the platform bent backwards, avoiding a short lash of green fire that swept straight above its head, dissipating in the air._** "You need to control it. If your weapon disappears after each strike, you will tire yourself out."**_

"I'm trying, alright?" Thomas puffed, breathing hard as he rushed at the aspect, right hand pulsating with a living flame. Control. Right, control. He needed control, not just blind rage and power. Damn it all, why wasn't it enough to just get pissed and kill the bad guys?

Since when was killing something to look forward to?

The thought nearly made him stumble, but Thomas kept up his speed, circling the aspect as it tracked him, following his every movements. The aspect kept up with him, hands held in a pose ready to deflect any attack Thomas could launch at him. As he ran, Thomas unleashed attack after attack, bathing the room in the supernatural glow of green fire, "Chi" made material. He had spent some time going over the datapad Doctor Cole had given him, and found most of it to be exempts from a book called the '_Huangdi Neijing'_, or the Book of the Yellow Emperor. Most of it was with regards to chi used in medicine, but the principles had been there, with an actually outlined map of the chi-flow in the human body.

Roku spun his hands in a circular motion, ripping the fire apart as it was supposed to hit him face-on, spreading the flames outwards and into harmless waves of heat. Thomas growled and launched a new attack, the flushing heat of the flames causing him to sweat profusely during the training. Each stream of green fire was launched with as much control as could be mustered, which was to say little to none at all. Every time he tried controlling the fire more than simply pointing it at Roku, the flames liquefied and splashed to the floor, leaving the smell or warm rubber in the air. Rage, hate and anger were much better in his eyes, and he'd see about making Roku realize it too.

"_**Control. Brute attacks will not work on a foe of equal or higher strength. Control."**_ Thomas wanted to tell Roku where to stick his control. Instead, he pumped a new torrent of fire at the aspect, the sheer heat causing the floor beneath it to sear and darken.

The platform that was Roku dissipated it with little visible effort.

"_**Control! You dimwit, control!"**_

"Why can't - I just - Beat the shit - out of - you - with - normal - fire!?" Thomas exclaimed in his frustration, unleashing a new blast of emerald flame with each. He didn't even stop to ponder why he was so far down the path now that he called fire "normal". It was still butt-raping all accepted science whenever he produced flames in his palms or his feet, but now, science wasn't really all that important as beating the crap out of the berating tin soldier. As opposed to when in a fight for his life, only his right hand seemed to be capable of producing flames now.

Again, Roku simply swatted away the fire with those frustrating movements of his.

"_**Because I am not allowing you to, and neither will any enemy with similar strengths. Realize your potential, and fulfill it."**_ Roku sounded more and more like Thomas's old teacher, berating piece of scrap. The aspect didn't even seem to exert any efforts in blocking Thomas' attacks, which was the most frustrating part of it all. Against Nazara, Thomas had believed himself equal to Roku because he managed to hold against Saren, but when Nazara took over, Roku had been the one to take the full brunt of the attack, while Thomas had just managed to annoy the possessed corpse of Saren, for which he now carried the scars on his face to show.

"What… so it's a deathmatch?" Thomas huffed, coming to a stop while trying to catch his breath. Running and shooting at the same time was demanding as all hell. How'd children in the old Avatar cartoons manage to do it all the time? Training, that's how. But training meant listening to Roku going on and on about how control was better than force.

"_**In the sense that you can perfectly well do your best to try and kill me, or even harm me, but I honestly have no expectations of you succeeding at it."**_

"Not really… the best insensitive to get your student to pay… attention." Thomas panted, standing straight again. If there was one good thing to come along with the exhaustion, it was that the fire tended to sear his hair short cropped the instant he started, but oddly enough stopped short of burning him bald.

"_**I am the undisputed master of divine fire, not a social assistant."**_ The aspect said with a shrug, forming the same kata as he had for the past four days straight. Thomas suspected the aspect took some sort of pleasure in the sparring, seeing how every day had consisted of more training than anything else.

"At least a water-break?" He tried, feeling his legs ready to give beneath him.

"_**Acceptable, I suppose. One minute, that is all."**_ Thomas wasted no time getting to the nearest dispenser of heavenly liquids, pouring his mouth full of delicious H2O with each gulp, replacing the water that had poured from him during the fight. Going at it for hours on end, more than took its toll on him, even if Roku didn't seem to acknowledge it.

"_**Time's up."**_ Roku called, his voice the same despite the synthetic tone it still carried. Aspect or not, his voice still bore the traits of being broadcasted from a machine. Groaning, Thomas extracted himself from the sink, casting a brief glance to the other end of the room, which was split into two main areas, where Tequila and Wrex were playing tug-of-war with a thick beam of metal, warping it in different shapes, causing the metal to groan as human fought Krogan through sheer strength.

"Right, right… I'm dead-beat, you know that?"

"_**It is part of the exercise. To face what is to come, you must be more warrior than a simple soldier. You are the child who found a gun. I will make you proficient in that weapon, no matter how long I must drill you in it."**_ Roku said, taking up the same kata as usual, as always. Thomas found it odd that the thing he learned first was the name of what Roku did, not how to do it or what it did. A "kata", he was fairly sure that was what it was called, was some sort of standing used in martial arts. Beyond thát, and the fact that he remembered it from the Avatar cartoons, he had no idea what good it did here and now.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that…" Thomas huffed, breathed and exhaled, taking up the stance Roku for some reason demanded of him. True, it seemed appropriate to start out like this, physically pressing the air in and out the lungs with one's hands, visualizing the breath like a glowing sphere of energy in the chest, but it just seemed so… foreign. Like it was meant for another culture altogether. Still, he completed the exercise and looked at Roku as the geth-platform mirrored him, more for symbolism than anything else.

"_**Now, try to bring me down only by using your feet. No hands used."**_ Thomas' jaw went slack and his fists clenched in frustration. How the hell was he going to accomplish that?

"What?" But instead of answering, Roku just retook his pose and waited, synthetic eye tracking Thomas. The marine bristled, more annoyed than anything. He could just barely produce enough fire from his feet to propel him in a vacuum, and…wait, how did he know thát? He'd never been in a vacuum while using his powers, had he? At least, not that he could remember. And yet, there was the little tick of knowledge that he could just make enough fire in his feet to do it, yet no knowledge of how or why.

Amnesia really was a bitch.

"Fine…" And he leapt at Roku, trusting the semi-padded floor to prevent him from breaking a bone should he fall, which he most likely would end up doing. As opposed to using his hands, trying to even make his feet catch fire was both difficult and hazardous as all hell. Not only did he have to somehow send his brain into his feet, he also had to be aware of his surroundings at the same time.

Therefore, when he hit Roku and Roku blocked, there wasn't a snuff of flame to be found. He had simply ended up unable to make a single spark on such short notice. Roku grabbed his legs and flung him to the ground, where the padding prevented serious injuries, but nonetheless still caused him pain.

"OW! Fuck!"

"_**This will take some time… you need **_**Control**_**, I keep telling you, but oh no, you're fine with brute force. What, you think the masters of martial arts, the characters in Avatar, or just Ashley when you spar rely on brute force? **_**Control**_** is what they all rely on. Control, and precision."**_

"I could have broken my arm there you fuck!"

"_**Did you?"**_

"Wha-...No, but that's not the point." Thomas growled, wanting more than anything to turn the platform inside out. He winced as his shoulder screamed in protest, but still managed to jump at Roku once more, trying to kick the robot in the face. Still no fire, but if nothing else, he could at least try physically kicking Roku's ass.

Roku simply moved to the side, forcing Thomas to change into a roll in order to avoid breaking his legs upon landing. At least he knew how to do thát without failing. The Homeland Security training had always been about falling without breaking something, more than it had been about actual guns. Coming to his feet, he charged back at the aspect, preparing to simply kick the thing until something better came to mind.

As could be expected, "simply kicking the thing until something better came to mind" was not the best of strategies. At the first kick, Roku simply absorbed the impact, allowing his metal chassis to take the blow. At the next kick, the aspect grabbed Thomas's leg and swatted it away, causing the marine to stumble but remain standing.

"_**Control! Force your energy into your entire being, then send it to where it needs to go!"**_

"Fuck off!" Thomas launched at Roku again, trying in spite to will whatever energy three hours of intensive training left him, and launched a new kick at the aspect, imagining taking the thing's head clean off with a well-aimed kick. A thin hint of green in his vision was the only result he received, and Thomas ended up stumbling across the ground away from Roku, having been tossed aside with the ease of a child with a doll.

"_**Rage and anger are well and fine when you are going for simple brute force, going for pummeling your enemy into submission or simply erase them to the point of leaving but a charred stain…"**_ Roku noted calmly as he seemed to flow around a new attack. Thomas now simply gave fuck to it all and started punching at the aspect as well. He received a mechanical knee in the gut for his trouble, and dropped to the ground, coughing, spitting and gagging, his vision going to and fro along with his consciousness. _**"But when you face an opponent who actually know what he is doing, you can't just disregard focus and control. You are no Krogan, nor even a Ground pounder. Brute force is their domain. You… control, precision and determination."**_

"-gah…"

"_**In this state, Saren would still be able to murder you. Is that what you want?"**_ Roku demanded, but at least withheld any further kicks. One was more than enough, and Thomas barely registered the fact that Roku was speaking at all.

"_**No, I don't think this is what you want at all. Then how come that you continuously attempt with brute force, when all you need is control?"**_ The aspect gave an almost human sigh; _**"Your problem is your rage, your willpower and your lack of control."**_

"-gnnnnhhh…"

"_**Curse it all… you need even more training than I thought… we're dropping the sparring part for now. I imagine you'd want to take the rest of the day off?"**_ He asked, looking at where Tequila was punching holes in the beam of solid steel Wrex was trying to beat her down with. At least she was doing a better job with her training, he thought.

Tequila gritted her teeth, planting her feet on the ground as the Krogan came at her, the beam of steel held firmly in his large hands, warped around his fingers, allowing her no way of prying it from him as he came towards her. Her soles dragged against the rubbery floor as her hands met the steel.

It was an otherworldly feeling. Her fingers weren't stopped by the metal, like logic would have it. Instead, it felt like digging into densely packed clay. She simply felt her hands immerse themselves in the material, gripping the bar of steel like it was nothing. Damn, but this was all so messed up.

Also, it was exhilarating as hell!

"That all you've got, Toad-man?"

"Bah, I haven't even started yet." Wrex shot back, pressing against her. Tequila was sent backwards, the only thing stopping her from falling being the fact that her hands were embedded in the same metal as Wrex's, meaning she wasn't going anywhere.

"Come on, that the best you can do?" She hissed, gripping the metal tighter as Wrex pressed her backwards. The kind of power, "chi", Roku had called it, was completely beyond her capability to comprehend. It was utterly impossible to do what she was currently doing. All science forbade a human from grabbing a beam of steel like a roll of kebab.

Then again, all science forbade reincarnation, didn't it?

"Hmph" The old Krogan simply snorted and pressed forward. Tequila might be able to "bend" at the same level as him, but in sheer physical strength, he was like an elephant bull. A freight train of sheer power. She only hoped her legs weren't going to break at some point, that was all. With a suddenness and speed that completely defied his size, Wrex ripped the metal in half, ripping it from her hands with a force that gave her blisters on the back and palms of each. _Ai! Joder! Matas para te madre, te padre… I can't even keep my grammar straight anymore… Joder, I need a break…_

"Fuck! That hurt you _bastardo!_"

"I thought you wanted better?" He offered with an almost wounded tone, though she could easily hear it was faked and meant to piss her off more than anything. Still, in a good spirit, she supposed. But _damn_ it hurt!

"Joder… Joder… mis manos…" She grit her teeth and stood to face the towering alien. She had to admit, Wrex was kind of intimidating, especially with cartoony-powers, like that Hillary called them. Speaking of which, she needed a chat with that woman sooner or later.

"You want me to fuck your hands?" Wrex asked in mock-confusion. She shot him a flat glare, and the old Krogan chuckled, a rumbling sound that made him almost endearing, if it wasn't for the lack of skin on the back of her hands right now; "Didn't think so. Need a break?"

"Why?... Getting tired, old toad?" She breathed out, wiping sweat from her brow. The salty drops seared the raw muscles on her hands; "Fuck… not a good idea." She hissed, blowing on her hands as tears started stinging her eyes.

"Nah, but you look like you could use a break. 'Sides, I gotta take a piss. Beating up humans makes my bladders run." Wrex laughed. He slammed her back in what was probably meant as a friendly gesture, then left for the toilets. The "friendly" gesture knocked Tequila flat on her face. She was so utterly exhausted that she simply didn't bother getting back up again. Instead, she simply enjoyed the soft floor, treating it like a pillow against the harsh training.

Her eyes, half-shut with exhaustion, glanced at the only other people in the hall. For some reason, Thomas had copied her own state, and was sprawled on the floor as well. She could hear Roku saying something, but the exact words were lost to her in the distance.

She had no real idea of how long had passed before the thumbing steps of Wrex were by her side again. Turning her head, she caught sight of the massive, plated feet of the space-toad.

"…huh."

"Alright, let's get a move on. I have another exercise for you, if you're up to it." The old alien said. Tequila sighed and tried pushing herself up, but found her arms completely drained for strength. _Joder_…_already?_

"Might… need a little help getting up." She muttered sheepishly, a rare thing for her. Wrex just huffed at her awkward request, grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her on her feet in one rough movement. The result left her on wavering legs, but at least standing again.

"Better?"

"Yeah… maybe. No. Yeah, I'm… I just need something to drink." She panted, eying the sink in the corner. It had been installed already the first time they'd been there, back when the room was still used for storage, and she had no idea why. Didn't matter _now_, of course. Now, it was salvation in the form of chrome steel carrying water. It was Mother Mary's grace upon her frail, mortal shoulders. Wrex grunted and let her go, spending the time she used to drink, to scratch where one apparently wasn't allowed to scratch when females were around. When she returned, more or less rejuvenated, he gave her a small nod, then picked up a new metallic object, this time a six-inch plate of iron.

Iron, he had found, was easier to bend and break and control, because it was less pure than steel, and thus held more natural particles than any other metal. At Tequila's questioning look, he explained;

"Now. Think you can do a little punching?" Tequila nodded, though both looked and was apprehensive at the prospect of further harming hand hands. While taking a drink, she had used the break to apply a healthy dose of Medigel to booth hands, plus wrappings that would at least act as skin-replacements for the moment.

Instead of trying a new spar with her, Wrex held the plate in front of her, like her old CQC-instructor had had people do when drilling them in kickboxing. She hadn't enjoyed it as much as the others, but still passed the exercise.

"You want me to punch a piece of steel?"

"Iron, but yeah, that's about it. Figured you'd need a break from steel, and iron's easier." At Wrex's explanation, Tequila shook her head and huffed, but didn't offer any further comments. _Right, just like those fantasy-flicks, with a metal bending Krogan… I can't imagine where they got the idea from though._

"Oh the irony…" She muttered in the end, clenched her fist and focused on where she was going to hit the metal. First time was always more than a little scary, because she had to punch the metal with enough force that without the powers, her fingers would break instantly. Visualization, luckily, had always been natural to her. Had to, for a rifleman. There had been little use for a rifleman without the ability to visualize back in the USCM.

Hence, when she punched at the metal, the pain was weak and ignorable compared to the impact she made. There, right where her fist was now shallowly embedded in the iron, was a nice, soft feeling of having actually pounded something with the consistency of butter. Weird, really, but she wasn't going to complain. Being able to punch a thick plate of iron might never have been on her list of to-do's, but it sure as hell was nice.

"Damn, I'm good."

"Hmph. Again." And Tequila punched the plate again, leaving an impression of her fist in the metal; "Again…Again…Again…Again." Each word was followed by Tequila delivering a fresh punch to the metal, slowly transforming the once pristine iron into something that could have been hauled from a junkyard; "Again…Again…Again…Again…Again…"

Each punch left an imprint of her fist in the metal, each impact turning the heavy iron into more and more warped scrap that looked more like it had been the target for a rain of bullets than a human fist. Sweat breaking over her brows as she kept hitting the metal with every ounce of strength she had left. "Metalbending" as she figured she might as well call it, was surprisingly easy once the basics had been nailed down.

First, all the energy Roku constantly referred to as "Chi" had to be in the limbs she wanted to interact with, in this case her arms, wrists, hands, knuckles and fingers. It was a painstakingly long and tedious thing to learn, and she couldn't even look anything up on the extranet, unless one believed the things about Chinese men setting fire to a piece of paper by using Chi. Then again, while they offered little advice, those Chinese might as well be right, considering the constant pounding accepted science took each day.

Second, she had to get a feel for whatever she was trying to interact with. Wrex said simple rock and dirt was the easiest, since it was closest to the Gift, whatever exactly that was. She wasn't buying the story about a giant worm giving Chi to the space-toads, not even close. A lot had happened so far, but thát was impossible. Rock was supposed to be a clay-like mass, according to Wrex. Easy to interact with and mold and destroy. Iron was the next best thing, often made from enough impurities that it almost was like rock, but not quite. She couldn't see the impurities like Wrex seemed to, but she could "see" them, simply by feeling for the stuff whenever she touched the metal and actively looked for it.

Third, she had to concentrate her energy and strength where it was needed, and then pump as much force into those points as she possibly could. Those were the steps for manipulating and using the material she could see and touch. This was already hard enough, but according to Wrex, manipulating rock and metal more than a meter away, made what she was doing now seem like a fucking fieldtrip. With as much effort as punching iron and warping steel was, she hated to think about how hard controlling a larger body of rock, iron or steel, or Hell, even something like hitting iron _here_ and making it jut out _over there_.

"…Again…Again!"

Unbeknownst to any of those exercising, even Roku, the observation-room now held a spectator. The old woman's graying red hair was tied into a ponytail behind her head, for once not getting in the way of her eyes. Her face still held the gaunt look it had when the Normandy survivors returned to Arcturus, but unlike then, now her eyes held the prospect of hope and opportunity, and her lips were creased in a smile.

* * *

**So Tequila is better at handling her stuff than Thomas... go figure.**

**The "book of the Yellow Emperor" mentioned when Thomas thought back to his reading, is an actual book detailing the applications of Chi in medicine, healing and martial arts, written in what we know as the early middle ages. Not sure what Chinese Dynasty it was though... **

**Also, and this is purely optional, but do you want me to add a sort of explanatory part of conversation in the stroy, where Roku explains everything about Chi, Cole explains it or Thomas simply reflects some more over it? If not, this is probably the last chapter before we start skipping days at the time, proceeding to where shit starts hitting the fan.**

**Till next time, and by Talos! hit the damnable "review" option, or I'll have no idea if you like this or not. Also just discovered "Attack on Titan"... brutal and damn good show :3**


	6. Just another routine mission

**Well, I have decided that this is the final chapter we're giving the crew to recover from the Normandy's attack. Thus, we're finishing what loose ends might be to find, and shipping out. Some might be surprised when the new mission is revealed, some might have anticipated it for some time. **

* * *

**Just another routine mission**

* * *

January 3rd, 2184.

Anadius, Horsehead Nebula

Cronos Station

19:27

"Sir, you have an incoming caller." Cross called from her position somewhere in the vast facility of rooms and corridors that expanded beyond the meager, but very much expensive, doors. The man, once known to the public simply as Jack Harper, mashed his cigarette into the tray before pulling up the display, showing an unusual 'Source Unknown' instead of the name.

It was odd, because very few people in the galaxy he knew off had the technical and technological prowess to hide themselves from his systems. This left just two possible callers, both spelling some rather frustrating news, in each their way. If it was the Shadow Broker, it was likely something rather dubious, morally wrong and short-termed to be flung at him. The Illusive Man had no real clues as to what the Shadow Broker was, but former dealings suggested a species with little patience, therefore not Asari or Hanar.

The other possibility, could prove far more frustrating, but also far more rewarding in what it represented.

"Let it through. Keep our firewalls up, though." Even if it was _her_, he would never discount the possibility of her trying to bring down his organization in a fit of rage over something she believed him to have planned and carried out.

A holographic shape flickered to life in his private projector, a ring of displays and sensors that together formed a 3D-picture of an Alliance officer. The smile he always wore when contacting people, a suit of business, faded when he noticed the lack of said same smile on her face.

"Anna."

"Jack." There was little, if any of the friendly tones to her voice that he remembered from her last call, most likely due to what Sovereign represented, and the threat that still lurked. Thát, or it could be due to the destruction of the SSV Normandy, her most priced vessel, as well as the demise of its de-facto CO, Alliance Commander John'Shepard.

Picking a fresh cigarette from his casing, he lit it and watched her with eyes he knew some found unsettling, and even downright frightening. The old and grizzled Alliance Admiral though, seemed to have no reaction towards them whatsoever.

"To what do I owe the honor of you calling me, an act no doubt illegal for a multitude of reasons?" He asked, keeping his tone cool, collected and most important of all, friendly. There was really no need in his eyes to antagonize the probably most intimidating woman in the galaxy.

"I suspect, with the spies you undoubtedly have in my organization, that you have learned about the Normandy by now?" She asked in a more calm tone than he would have expected from her. Now that he looked, she did appear more than a little tired. The truth also was, that so far the destruction of the Normandy wasn't public knowledge. The Alliance seemed to want to keep a lid on it for as long as possible, probably to have a suspect to show when the questions came rolling in.

"I have. Terrible misfortune, I agree. I hear Commander Shepard was among the dead?" There was a flash of anger across the woman's face, disappearing just as soon as it had been there.

"Aye. You know why I'm calling?"

"I have a few suspicions. But please, do explain." He said with the casual, smooth-yet-commanding tone his employees were subjugated to. It was so much a habit that he wasn't aware he used it on Anna. The Admiral huffed in clear annoyance;

"People, those who don't buy the bullshit with the Parliament being the leading factor behind the Quarians entering the Alliance, believe I was the sole orchestrator." She started. The Illusive Man puffed on his cigarette before speaking for her, knowing what she was alluding to;

"But in reality, you couldn't have done it without John'Shepard and his connections, could you?" The scowl on his face proved he had hit the spot.

* * *

January 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment D-5, rented by: Thomas. V. Fisher, Ashley. M. Williams

04:21

_Debris…wreckage… flames._

_Everything a haze of destruction, panic… fear…_

_Desperation…angst…_

_Death abundant, all around him…_

"_JOHN!" A voice, his own? A blur, everything going into the wrong colors._

_Fear, panic, struggle… energy?_

_Sensations, colors of hope? He wasn't sure… was he? Was she? _

_Blackness, coldness, darkness. _

_A hand, his own? Reaching out, towards what? Black and white at the same time, wrong shapes._

"_JOHN!" Shouting, but silent, no sound. Desperation and hope, fear… and relief?_

_New shapes, new forms, new colors._

_New feelings… confusion? Fear? Anxiety… disbelief?_

_Fire… green, but… sour and sad… sad? _

_Sadness… despair…fear?_

_Failure… failure of what? Shapes again. A voice…_

"_Convergence is nigh…" Red colors, dark colors… a new voice. _

"_JOHN!" _

"JOHN!"

Everything came back in an explosion of sensations, of colors, smells, feelings. His body drenched in sweat, heart beating like it was about to explode from his body. _WHAT- WHAT- WHAT?_

Tears flowed down his cheeks, he could feel thát at least. No, not at least. There was so much more he could feel. The fear, the grief, sadness, the sense of complete failure. The dream, while merely a blur, was still vivid in his memory, causing his breathing to intensify as he struggled to take in more air than he needed, causing specks of light to appear in his vision.

Then, hands. Soft, caring hands on his left shoulder and chest. The knowledge that someone else was there, that he wasn't alone.

"Thomas. Thomas, calm down." A voice, warm, caring, loving, concerned, reassuring. Beautiful and firm, but soft at the same time.

His vision returned, allowing him to take in his surroundings. He was in the bed, in the apartment, which meant he was as much at home as he could get. There was still the familiar, soft humming of the climate control in the corner, providing an audible bridge to reality. His chest was covered in cold sweat, the covering beneath him and the sheet above him sharing the same predicament.

Then there was the hands on him, the feeling of safety and comfort brought forth by their touch. Eyes seeking the source, he found Ashley's hazel eyes locked on him in the darkness. A surge of relief washed over him as he hugged her close, craving the familiar safety provided by the woman he loved.

"It was a nightmare… nothing more." She spoke softly, her gentle voice slowing down both his heart and breathing to a calmer state. Some might claim that adults had no need for comforting after a nightmare, but Thomas was currently of another opinion, and saw in Ashley his shield against the darkness that had invaded his mind. Ashley kissed his forehead, but said nothing more as she simply held him close, allowing him to return to a feeling of safety.

"…Sorry." Thomas muttered after a few minutes.

"What for?" She asked with concern in her voice.

"It's the middle of the night…I woke you up, didn't I?" He said, feeling ashamed that she would lose sleep because he needed comforting like some child. The dream, or nightmare, still hung in the back of his mind, an eerie presence that refused to leave.

Ashley didn't answer right away, instead opting to lightly peck him on the lips. It was a small gesture of love and comfort, but it meant so much more than could be put into words. His breath caught in his throat, Thomas looked at his love with new eyes, taking in her beauty and the compassion shining through her eyes.

"I love you." She whispered. Thomas stared at her, dumbfounded and unable to immediately come up with a response, even if the answer was obvious; "So I don't mind losing a bit of sleep if it is to help you."

"…Ash…" He whispered, his throat hoarse with emotions pouring through him, the main portion of it being simple and overwhelming love for the woman in his arms, though, and he noted this with some humor, _he_ was currently in _her_ arms.

There was an irony in that, which he secretly found much more compelling than being the rock of confidence himself.

"Feel like talking about it?" There it was again, the reason she was his light and love. The ever-present concern and care she showed for him, the instincts being the elder sister had drilled into her. He only hoped that he, in his own ways, could give her the same. She deserved it. Gods knew, she deserved it more than he ever could.

"…I…don't know. It's… jumbled, like… it's there, but then isn't. I just know it was painful." He muttered, then added with a wry smile; "Has to be, doesn't it, for a nightmare?"

The solemn look on Ashley's face was clear even in the darkness.

"The thing that woke me… you were shouting John's name." She said with a low, soft voice. Thomas' eyes widened in shock, having not expected something like that. He blinked, trying to gauge Ashley's expression in the lack of light. He wasn't even going to guess at what time it was.

"What? I mean… I… shouted?"

"Mmm. I didn't know what was wrong at first, but then you yelled 'John!' again, and I woke you up." Thomas felt more than a little shame well up in him at the knowledge that he had literally screamed into her ears, not something he'd ever wanted to do.

"Oh crap… Ash, I'm sorry, I didn't…" He tried. A pair of fingers put to his lips signaled for him to stop talking, and he obliged.

"It's okay. Do you remember why you'd be calling for him?" She asked, concern easily distinguishable in her voice.

"I don't know… I mean, I remember… I was scared, and cold… and I don't even remember what happened at all… It sucks… What if… what if I yelled because I failed at saving John's life? They said I was at the cockpit when the attack happened… what if… what if I could have saved John, but didn't?" There it was. The thought that had bothered and harassed him for more than a week now. The thought that, maybe, John would still be alive if _he_ hadn't failed.

Suddenly, firm hands locked on his cheeks, even if one had to eek between his head and the bed to get there. His head held in her grip, Thomas looked at Ashley with confusion roaming his mind;

"Thomas. Listen to me. You are _not_ responsible for people's deaths. No matter what powers you are learning to control, you are _not _to blame for the deaths of our friends." There was a command in her voice, so much more than she had used when giving him orders on the field. He wanted to believe her, to just accept that it wasn't his fault and move on…

"But I was_ right_ _the-_"

"No." Ashley cut him off, sitting up in the bed. In other moments, he would admire the silhouette she made against the tinted window towards the interior of the station. Now though, he simply was enraptured by her words;

"Yes, you were there. So was Joker and a lot of crewmembers, most of which had served for longer than either of us. You did your damned best, I know you did, and John's death wasn't your fault. I told you this when we lost Sev, I told you this when we lost Fixer, I told you this when we lost Garrus: It is _Not. Your. Fault._"

"How?" He asked quietly, sitting up next to her. It was only his left eye that allowed him to see, through utilizing several spectrums outside normal human view, giving him a colored type of night vision that Emhart had explained was based on a cat's pupil; "Roku said I sent him away before anything happened, and I was the only one who could have done anything… I _want_ to think it wasn't my fault, Gods, I want to believe it…"

"Thomas…" Ashley sighed, pulling him into a hug; "I know, believe me, I know what you are going through. I felt the same thing when I lost people under my command. People supposed to survive under my leadership…" Thomas heaved for breath as tears still flowed from his eyes.

"Does it ever go away? The guilt, the… the shame…?" He asked, his voice croaked with grief. Everything he had tried suppressing was coming back up now. Every failure, every death due to his failing to act. Every innocent whose life was cut short because _he hadn't checked for the chestburster._ Because he _hadn't warned Eden Prime_. Because… Because of all the secrets.

"…No…No, it doesn't. It gets better though. Less… hurting. Did for me after Eden Prime."

"How?"

"You. You helped me through it. Didn't hurt that you saved Hillary's life too, but it was mainly that you helped me when I stumbled, when I wanted to keep punching a wall until my knuckles broke…Didn't help that I felt like we were just replacing Commander Dawson and his team." Thomas blinked, unable to speak as he took in her words. _He_ had helped _her_?

"I didn't know…" He muttered as they remained in the embrace. The fact that her naked skin was pressed against his was nowhere near being as important as her sheer presence. He simply felt like he _belonged_ when they were like this, embraced and united against the galaxy.

They were, he started to realize, both broken soldiers who repaired one another. Step by step, psychological issue and trauma by psychological issue and trauma.

For some reason, a chuckle escaped him.

* * *

January 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Refurbished training facility.

17:22

Despite the lack of sleep he had suffered, Thomas was feeling oddly invigorated as he proceeded with the last stages of the day's training. Roku had, thankfully, abandoned sparring for the time being. Thomas was nothing short of overjoyed when he found out that Roku instead wanted him to kick the crap out of a Kevlar-dummy, preferably by setting it on fire.

It was in many ways much easier than against an actual opponent, as the dummy wasn't yelling at him to utilize even more control, nor was it kneeing him in the balls when he snapped and punched it with a bionic fist, causing the target to swing wildly before being stopped by aforementioned hand.

Still, no fire.

Which was more than annoying because Roku hadn't stopped berating, admonishing and tutoring like he was back in Elementary.

"And what are the basics of Chi?" Roku demanded as Thomas landed a new kick, trying to will as much energy as possible into every hit. The best he had done so far was to singe the hair on his foot, leaving an acrid smell in the air.

At least Roku was in his normal voice, not the divine-ish tone he used when pissed.

"Chi is energy… and… comes from the breath." Thomas huffed as he kicked again. And again, and again.

"And what schools are known concerning Chi?" The question caused Thomas to miss the dummy, which in turn continued its swing and hit him in the chest.

"…Schools?" If a geth platform was capable of sighing, Roku was doing so at the moment.

"Have you even _read_ what Cole gave you?" The aspect asked in exasperation. Being his make-shift teacher in the arts of chi and what power followed, Roku had been involved in Anna's scheme. Aside from being annoyed that the Admiral still believed to copy it by ways of science, he had none of the reservations about it that Thomas had displayed.

"I've read plenty. Chi is energy from breathing, theorized and discovered in the early Tang Dynasty, and a circulative system has been mapped for nearly a thousand years."

"You've looked at pictures and read their descriptions…"The way Roku stated it as a fact and not a question, annoyed Thomas. Mostly because it was true. There was just so _much_ material, and whenever Thomas was training, he was too exhausted to read _anything_, let alone scientific philosophy and Chinese medicine; "There is a potentially infinite amount of schools concerning Chi and its applications, as each utilization is a new school."

"Which means fire is one school and Tequila's Metalbending is another?" At least the geth nodded at this;

"Each element, as we'll call them for easiness' sake, belongs with a special type of Chi-school. "Metal- and Earthbending", which is what Tequila and the Krogan people is capable of, belongs with the defensive school of Chi, and is centered around physical strength and endurance." As if to prove Roku's point, there was a series of strained grunts as Tequila and Wrex punched away at large plates of metal.

"Fire, "Firebending" or FEE as your sister's scientists call it, is centered around focus, determination, willpower and breathing. Without the breath, there is no energy, and without energy, no fire. Where The Krogans are focused on defensive chi, your power belongs to the offensive school. Following me so far?"

"I think so. But if I'm only offensive, how come bullets can't hurt me?" Thomas asked, leaning against the heavy dummy. Roku raised a metallic finger;

"Ah, but have you been able to immolate since our separation?" He asked, apparently expecting a "no".

"When we fought Saren, I think I did." He muttered, hating even thinking back to the fight that had cost Garrus his life; "Why?"

Roku, as if to prove a point, instantly became bathed in green fire, coating his entire form in emerald flames. The heat, even from meters away, was uncomfortable;

"Immolation is something that only the true masters can perform. Needless to say, I am one such. It takes _years_ of training for what can be described as a Host or an aura-wielder, to master this. So far, you have yet to produce even a flicker of fire in your feet, let alone complete immolation… Still, the fight with Saren and Nazara _could _have pushed something… I do not know."

"Damn… _years_? But what about the Collectors?" Thomas asked, more frustrated than annoyed.

"Those… they will likely be a problem before we can finish your training. But remember, power is not solely what is within, but also those who are around you. Now then, I'd say this concludes today's training." Roku said, clapping his hands like a well-satisfied coach. In essence, that _was_ what he was, so it made a sort of sense.

As Thomas nodded and left for his own apartment where a shower was waiting, Roku remained, looking at the dummy. He was growing ever more concerned with each day Thomas failed to produce results, and any help from Athane had yet to appear.

"Dammit, Athane… whatever you are planning, I hope it will be worth the losses we've suffered."

…

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Corridors between training facility and private apartment of Fisher and Williams.

17:59

What had surprised Thomas the most about Arcturus, wasn't the size of the station. It was still dwarfed multiple times by the Citadel, and was not even as big as a single ward of the Galactic center.

No, what had surprised him, was the fact that, making up the center for the entire civilian and public sector of the station, was a large, outdoors area. Of course, it wasn't _outdoors_, as that would mean 'in space', but a large park-like area with trees, bushes and bioluminescent streetlights made from algae, which also helped produce oxygen for the station.

So enraptured was Thomas as he walked along the sidewalk, that when he turned a corner, he didn't see the man in front of him before the impact. The two stumbled but remained standing, and Thomas was about to offer every apology he could think of, until he saw just who he had walked into.

"C-Captain?" He stuttered, feeling his heart beating well out of his chest. Standing in front of him, and with a mixture of surprise and interest painted on his face, Captain David Anderson seemed to have recognized him as well. With the scars, Thomas supposed, recognition wasn't all that hard.

"Chief Fisher. Sorry, I didn't quite see where I was going." At least he didn't sound mad, or angry or annoyed. Thomas had feared that would happen ever since he'd discovered Anderson to be in the observation-room during his training with Roku.

"No, no, I didn't pay attention to where… it was my fault, sir." Anderson let out a small chuckle at that, as if finding something funny.

"Hmm… sir. Well, it does seem like a lifetime ago, when we picked the four of you up on Eden Prime." The old captain said, gesturing for Thomas to walk with him. The man was both a superior officer as well as a person Thomas wanted on his good side more than anything, so he followed.

"I suppose it does, sir." Thomas agreed. For a few moments, none of them spoke as they simply walked.

"Back then, when we took you on board. Did you have those… powers, there too?" Anderson asked after the short pause. Thomas sighed, having feared the questions the man would ask if they ever talked again. This was not one of them, and this he could at least answer truthfully.

"No, sir. I don't think I did. Noveria was really the first time I realized what I could do. After that… I was in training, by Roku." Thomas felt that, if Anderson had observed their training already, nothing bad would come from revealing Roku's name.

"Ah, the geth-platform. Yes, that definitely was one of the bigger surprises I had all last year. So, is "he" really a geth, or something more?"

"…Something more, I guess, sir."

"Secret?" Anderson's question made Thomas blink, and almost stop walking as he processed the word. The captain definitely _seemed_ much more sympathetic to his situation so far, than what he had feared.

"I don't know, sir. If you order me to speak, I have to, don't I?" Thomas asked, his voice small and cautious. While he knew personalities like Jane, John or even Ashley and Anna, Anderson's reactions were still somewhat unknown.

"Not really, no. I suspect anything of real importance has already been shared with your aunt. If it's critical or otherwise important, I'm sure she already knows." Anderson's words made Thomas smile a bit, as it meant there would be no awkward prying and evading questions. Still, an awkward silence hung over them, with hundreds of questions no doubt on the Captain's mind.

"Sir?" Thomas asked after a while of silence.

"Yes?"

"Why… did you give up the Normandy to John?" It was a question that had been on his mind since the first day serving, and so far he hadn't been able to figure out the man's reasons.

"Let's just say, your aunt has a lot more pull than you'd think possible." There was an entertained grin to the man's expression as he said it, which just served to confuse Thomas even further.

"Wait, did Anna order you to give up the Normandy?" He asked with disbelief; "Why?"

"I suspect she had some long-term plans unfit for us common minds. Possibly it was because she wanted to show how much the Quarians had to offer, like she ordered the shipments to Elysium delivered by a Quarian battle group, not standard Alliance warships. She's been fighting pirates longer than I've been alive, which is quite some time." The captain said; "Who knows, maybe she suspected an attack was imminent, or maybe she just had some damn good luck. Either way, John'Shepard proved that the Quarians could work well with human crews, and Admiral Gerrel proved that the Quarians were willing to fight for Humanity over Elysium."

"Sometimes, Anna scares me." Thomas added with a low voice, both amused and slightly horrified by the amount of variables Anna constantly seemed to work with. Anderson let out a weak chuckle;

"I think she scares a lot of people, Chief. It's why she's good at what she does. Personal opinion though, no need to spread it." The man said as they reached the area where Thomas' apartment was located.

"Noted sir." Thomas nodded. He was about to bid the Captain goodbye, when his Omnitool chimed up, his personal ringtone, "Wish master" by Nightwish, alerting the entire area to the fact that old music still rocked. Anderson took this as his cue to leave, and Thomas brought up the transmission;

"Fisher here."

"Chief, it's Hillary. Shepard just gave the order to meet up at the military docking bay D-5A. Do you know where that is?" He was always glad to hear Hillary's voice, even if she _did_ insist on calling him 'sir' and 'chief' whenever he wasn't actively reminding her to just call him by his name.

"Yeah I know that one. We docked there the first time the Normandy was on Arcturus. When's the deadline?"

"Now, actually. Chief Williams said your equipment is there already. See you there, Sir."

"Hillary, just call me… hello?" She had hung up on him the moment she had delivered her message. On one hand, it was admirable that she took everything with that level of professionalism and seriousness, but on the other, it gave him the impression she still was a bit off-put about the whole thing with powers; "Well… there goes my shower."_ Let's just get this over with so I can get back and relax… _

Thankful that he was at least wearing his civilian overcoat and long, if thin, running outfit's pants, Thomas made his way to the docking area meant for use only by military personnel and such was not open to the public. Instant recipe for conspiracy-theories right there, he mused as he jogged the short trip.

When he arrived, he had to show military ID to a marine guarding the entrance in a security booth. It was funny, those things that hadn't changed a bit since 2011. Except of course that now the marines had full-on body armor, hyper-sonic rifles and space-capable helmets. _Ah, the wonders of technology…_

Inside, the docking bay was actually more of a hangar, with hundreds of shuttles, gunships and assorted vehicles lining the gigantic hall in long rows of metal. One of the central walkways was currently occupied by what was left of the Normandy's ground crew, lined up with Jane standing in front of them. That was about as far as military discipline seemed to reach though, as they, like Thomas himself, were in various states of civilian dressing. Had discipline been a key factor here, it would have been disciplinary punishment all around for lack of military display… or something like that. The weariness was taking its toll on Thomas as he joined the group.

From a team that had at its peak supported no less than fourteen highly lethal and effective soldiers from around the galaxy and beyond, now remained just half of that. A person quickly discovered to be missing was Liara, and Scorch seemed somewhat distracted. Scratch that, Thomas realized. The clone seemed _a lot_ more distracted than usually. It struck him then, that _none_ of the aliens were present.

"Listen… I know, that we have suffered tremendous losses. I know how big a toll it takes on you, losing friends and loved ones like that." Jane started, none of her usual military professionalism or efficiency present in her tone. It was just one comrade speaking to the rest.

"I know, how much it hurts. How much you might just want to quit it all and hide in a corner. We lost the Normandy, we lost friends, colleagues… we lost a commander better than any I have ever served with, but more than anything, we lost family. Now, we are what remains." If Jane wanted to lift their spirits, Thomas thought, she wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"But, remember what we are. Before we are colleagues, before we are friends, before we are brothers and sisters, we are Alliance Soldiers. Each and every one of us has stared death in the eye more than once, and will do it again and again. It's what we _do_." There was more power behind her words now, but they still remained solemn and personal.

"Alliance Command has decided to deploy us on escort-duty for once, for a team of engineers and technicians. It's not a difficult task, and we'll be accompanied by a member of the N7's." Jane switched to a much more professional tone, indicating that the briefing had started. Thomas cringed at the prospect of getting instantly redeployed while wearing just his sportswear. The captain pulled a projection up on her Omnitool, and transferred it to the emitter located in the floor, allowing for a much larger and higher resolution of the object.

It was… it looked like either a ship or a space station, Thomas wasn't sure which. It was completely unlike any he had ever seen, at least in the Alliance Navy. Maybe older models looked different, but this thing looked completely _alien_ from any type of ship he had seen so far. What looked like an open ribcage was making up most of the ship's length, while a pair of blocky towers made up the rear… or front, of the ship. Long appendixes, like wings were jutting from beneath the vessel.

"This is the MSV Ishimura. It's a mining-vessel of the Planet-cracker type, which means it's pretty damn big. It went dark after a mission to one of the outer colonies, travelling through the Terminus systems. We don't know if they came under attack or simply suffered from a blackout in their central systems, caused by a solar flare maybe. We're shipping out with a small frigate, the SSV Kellion, in one hour, at the dot. Get prepped and meet back here by then. Questions?"

"Captain?" Nicolai asked. Jane nodded to one of their two remaining heavy gunners, the other being Tequila.

"Who's the N7?"

"You met him on Virmire, actually. N7 Sergeant Isaac Clarke is a highly skilled combatant and field-engineer. While we're in his company, I expect you all to respect anything he says, adhere to his advice on situations and follow his lead in case the Ishimura has been boarded by pirates. Any other questions?"

"Shepard?" This time it was Ashley's turn to ask. Thomas suspected she still held some amount of resentment towards the redhead, but significantly less than what they had started out with. Jane nodded;

"Why are they sending us to retrieve a mining vessel, and why just our team? Wouldn't this be a job for an Alliance Battlegroup?"

"You're not wrong, Williams. Normal protocol for these situations state that relief for possible boarding or hijacking should consist of several ships, if not an entire battlegroup. However, sending that many ships into the Terminus would likely do more harm than good for the Alliance, and as such we're going in with the Kellion. As for why this requires our involvement… from what I understand, the Ishimura was returning with enough minerals to churn out an Everest-class Dreadnought. Its cargo is worth billions of credits, and currently, the campaign against Saren has left the Alliance somewhat… drained, for resources. I take it there are no more questions?"

As no one spoke, Jane dismissed the team and sat down on a crate, running a hand through her hair. With Even Kaidan gone, she was well and truly alone in the hangar, regardless of how many were still mulling about.

Her crew had suffered so much during the entire campaign against Saren and Sovereign, it was just cruel irony that only after the campaign was done with, would they suffer the largest amount of casualties yet, as well as the Normandy getting destroyed.

"Fuck… John, I'm sorry, I'll… I'll make sure to take care of the team. I'll… I'll do better." She muttered to no one in particular. A ghost in the room, if anyone, would be her audience. Jane Shepard had a lot of regrets, a lot of patches in the tapestry that was her life. Those patches were times she wanted to forget, even if they had shaped her into who she was now. Magnus would probably have called it sentimentally squandering.

At least, at least she could bring the team on this one easy mission, just to take their minds off the disasters they had been through.

* * *

**Well, well, well. **

**Who saw thát coming? As you might remember, there's been enough camoes of DS-characters and references in the story to fill a truck. Now, let's see if I can do justice to a game that had me nearly shitting myself the first time I played it, though "Downfall" was way more scary than the game... go figure.**

**Also, before the question is asked: No, Nicole is not dead. She is alive and well/pregant on New Canton, and never went to the Ishimura. So Isaac won't see her there. **

**That is all for this time. **

**See ya :)**


	7. MSV Ishimura

**Alright.**

**In order to write the DS-arch of this story, I've had to both rewatch "Dead Space: Downfall" and replay the first game. **

**Lesson learned so far: Mercer is a bitch with a real nice voice, and the Hunter is made of a Scorpion that fucked a nightmare, had a zombie-child, fucked thát too, then had a baby called the Hunter.**

**I really hate that thing...**

**This time: People come and people go, the crew sets out on their "routine-mission" and we are reunited with a friend from Valhalla.**

* * *

**MSV Ishimura**

* * *

January 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Hangar D-5A, Military access only.

18:42

An hour was all that passed between the dismissal and the return of the crewmembers, and Jane had moved only to gather her equipment, then promptly returned to her crate. Despite the prospect of an easy, simple mission, she felt no anticipation or excitement whatsoever at going back into the fray.

Dying once, that was enough to make most people snap, she could imagine. But nearly dying twice, then instead losing her ship and most valued colleague… a man who practically was her counterpart in every sense of the word… it was hard.

As the team joined up, she noticed a change in the mood. It wasn't the gloom of grief now, but neither was it a raised morale, something she could use. It was something in the air, something unsaid. She could see it on the way they stood, the way they carried themselves. At least Scorch was probably a bit more energic. He always seemed to…

Jane did a double-take as she realized who had met and who hadn't. Scorch was nowhere to be seen, and now Boss was the one looking conflicted and troubled, his feelings radiating from behind his helmet. It was clear something was wrong, and it wasn't an injury. Before she could address this though, something happened that she had in no way expected nor anticipated.

A new soldier stepped up. He was wearing a completely new set of Phase-II armor, painted in a dark green digital camouflage-pattern, complete with a set of holsters and compartments strapped to his armor in what seemed like a replacement for a combat-vest. His helmet carried a thick stripe of the same color down its forehead and visor, stopping where the breather started.

The others seemed to have the same reaction to the newcomer.

"Wait… who're you?" Tengberg, being the one with the probably most civilian mindset on the team, broke the ice. Jane had found the man to be one of the more talkative, if brash and somewhat naïve people on the Normandy. In a way, he reminded her of Richard Jenkins, only with an affinity for heavy weapons.

"Hi, I'm Corporal Adrian Shepard. You know, the guy who softened up the big zombie-Krogan on Valhalla for you?" The man said. If he was surprised at the reaction his name caused, he didn't let it show beyond his helmet. Of course, Fisher was the first to speak up;

"Wait- Wait, hold- You're… no no no… No more Shepards… Can't take it. Can't take it. Can't…" Jane's eyes widened as the Chief started grabbing his own head, as if entering a seizure of some sort. It didn't get better when the only two people to not somehow shrink away from the corporal were Tequila and Boss, the latter still carrying the same air of distress though.

"What?"

"Corporal, what are you doing here?" Jane asked as much as demanded, trying to steer the focus away from the unlucky name resemblance. Shepard turned to look at her, obviously still confused.

"I heard you had a mission, and… well, pretty much my entire battalion got slaughtered on Valhalla, so it's just me now. I already heard how the Normandy takes in irregular individuals, so… can you use me? I mean, not like I got much better shit to do, is it?" The man offered.

"When did you get out of hospital? Last time I saw you, you were in a rather bad shape." Boss shot in. Jane still hated the fact that they seemed to be one Bulwark short of the usual. Hopefully, Scorch was just saying goodbye to Liara.

"Around…" Adrian stopped, looking at his watch, an actual wristwatch instead of the Omnitool; "Seven hours ago. Be amazed what a few days in this new stuff the Alliance has can do to you. Threw me in a tank with gel, came out a few days later, good as new, minus being thirsty as shit, but what can you do?"

"I like him. Captain, we still recruiting?" Hillary asked, seemingly past being appalled by the name and now more amused than anything. Adrian turned his head to glance at Hillary, armored and helmeted as she was in the trademark Phoenix-colors.

"You know the Normandy's gone, don't you?" Jane asked. The corporal nodded, a bit more solemn than before at least. Anything less, and Jane suspected someone would have punched him for lack of respect.

"I heard."

"Then why do you want to come with us? You even know our mission?" Kaidan, being a lieutenant, was the first to ask a question that Jane herself had been uncertain how to word.

"As I said, I'm all that's left of my entire battalion. Don't see much use for me in the regular armed forces, but your team, is all individuals and specialists. As for the mission… no clue." Jane wanted to publically palm her face, but resisted the urge. The last thing she needed was another Isaac Clarke, and this guy seemed to fit the criteria for just thát.

"…Fine, you can come. Lord knows we'll get to bore our asses off, unless pirates actually attacked the damned thing. You'll be taking orders from me, Alenko, Williams, Fisher and Boss. Now, Boss…" Jane sighed, redirecting her attention at the commando;

"Ma'am?"

"Where's Scorch?" Jane asked. For the first time since she had met the damned clone, Boss was silent. He actually _hesitated_ answering a superior officer's question, which was so unusual, Jane suspected he simply hadn't heard it.

"He…decided to follow his own path." Boss finally said, immense pain and shame clear in his voice. The entire crew did a double-take at the Squad-leader, eyes wide behind their helmets.

"Come again?" Because Jane was sure as hell she had either misheard or misunderstood Boss. Instead of answering, the clone pulled out his Omnitool, and projected an audio recording.

"_Listen… I fully understand if each and every one of you will hate me for this, but… truth is, I can't take this anymore. I just… I can't take it. All my life, my brothers and friends have been dying, but I've just carried on because it was all I knew back then…_

_Then, here, I'm given a chance. People look at me, they see a human being. I've… I can't take this anymore. From day one, it's just been "kill, kill, kill"… I lost one brother twice, and Fixer on Valhalla… then Garrus died and now John. I just… It's too much. I know I was made to be a soldier, to just be a killing machine, but… the last words John said to me, he said I was my own man. I _am_ my own man. Believe me, I hold nothing but the greatest respect and affection for everyone of you. You are my family, and that I don't remain with you will probably always be my greatest shame, the "what if?" question, I guess… I'm not going to… Fek, I can't… Just, don't try to pursue me… I don't want… I…"_ Jane stared at the file as it was reduced to the sound of a man sobbing before he ended the recording.

Scorch… had left them?

"Well, this is certainly unexpected… I blame hormones. You mortals always seem to follow those annoying little things." Roku mused, his synthetic voice making the comment all the odder.

"…Boss… what is this?" She demanded, trying to keep the illogical feeling of betrayal from showing in her voice. She understood Scorch's reasons. If anyone had a right to deserting, it was him or Boss. From what her conversations with Fixer had revealed, they had been trained to fight and kill from the day they were born. So far, they hadn't had anything remotely resembling a normal life.

"He followed his own path, ma'am." The man said, his voice the closest to a mumble that any of them had ever heard; "Are you going to… have him arrested?"

Jane yanked her helmet off and sat back down on the crate, pulling an armored hand through her hair. She seemed to do that a lot these days.

"I'm…" She started, then sighed; "No… No, I'm not. Technically, neither of you are Alliance personnel, so you can't actually desert. Still, fucking bad timing for it." Feeling she was starting to let her emotions show, Jane slapped the helmet back on, then stood.

"You seem to have picked a good timing, Corporal. You can replace our heavy weapons user "Scorch" in this. Still, what's your full name?" If he was going to be around, the last thing Jane wanted was to address him as "Shepard".

"Eh…Dwaine?" While it was clear that he didn't fully understand the reason, Jane took it for what it was.

"Adrian Dwaine? Good. We're meeting with the crew of the SSV Kellion soon, then we'll undock and head for the Cygnus-system. Everyone geared up?" Jane asked, glancing at the men under her command. While Nicolai Tengberg and Teresa Aquila were both carrying their heavy weapons folded upon their backs, the rest of the crew were carrying their own firearms folded up as well. The only person to be actually carrying his weapon in his hands, was Boss. With the Alliance manufacturing the ammunition for his weapon, he was able to keep his DC-15 rifle, a weapon Jane more than once had caught herself looking at with hungry eyes; "Good, let's go."

While the hangar itself was relatively small, it was still large enough that walking from one end to the other took a few minutes, and it was a silent group of marines that stopped before the hull of a very different frigate than what they were used to, as well as the apparent crew of the ship in front of it.

The Kellion looked more like an elongated WASP-gunship with a pair of enormous thrusters mounted behind it. It was nothing like any frigate Jane had seen so far, which meant it was likely a product of commercial or semi-military industry, like a private security-corporation. It also seemed to sport no visible weapon-systems to speak of, which just reinforced her theory that it wasn't meant for actual warfare.

As if on cue, Jane was snapped from her considerations by the one man she now shared this mission with.

"Captain Shepard. Great to see you again." Isaac Clarke called, stepping forward to greet her. At first, Jane had disliked the man for his obvious lack of military discipline, but after Virmire, and after the reports of what he did on the Citadel, she had changed her mind about him. Irregular attitude, yes, but he was effective when shit hit the fan. He didn't even comment on the green geth platform walking with them.

Therefore, Jane grasped his hand, greeting him like an officer of equal standing. While he was only a sergeant, he was also an N7, which meant more than rank. It meant skills;

"Sergeant Clarke."

"Lieutenant now, actually." He said, tapping a finger on an insignia that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen the man. Looking at him now, Jane realized he_ did_ seem a little different. His armor seemed like it had been enhanced, with additional plates of ceramics and titanium covering what weak-spots the pitch-black phase-II left open. If nothing else, it made him stand out in a crowd. Thát, and his specialized helmet.

"...Really?"

"Yup. Command decided to give me a boost the right way after the Citadel. Should've seen the piles I left lying around for clean-up." He grinned; "Well okay. _Technically_, Lieutenant Langford helped me, you know, the Lieutenant from Virmire?"

"_Landford_? I thought it was 'Lee'?" Jane said as she stared walking past him, towards the actual crew of the small ship. Clarke laughed a bit at that;

"Honestly, when was the last time you met a woman named "Lee"?" He chuckled. Jane though, now focused on the man stepping towards her.

"Zach Hammond, Security Officer of the SSV Kellion, at your service, ma'am." He saluted, as did the two likewise armored men behind him, probably part of the ship's own security detail. Hammonds was either Afro-British, or Afro-American, Jane couldn't decide. Neither did he comment on Roku's presence. Next up was a woman with long, brown hair tied up in a ponytail;

"Kendra Daniels, Alliance Technical Department. I'll be handling most of the technical issues with the Ishimura's systems." The woman saluted as well, though it was obvious she lacked the training of a soldier. Civilian mindset, Jane instantly decided; "You… have a geth with you?"

"Roku's special. Good to meet you Hammond, Daniels. What's our scheduled time of leave?"

"We just need to go over the final checks, then we'll be good to go." Hammonds replied. As if on cue, an Alliance engineer emerged from the entrance to the frigate, giving them a thumbs-up. Jane would have smiled at the timing, had her mind not been flooded with concerns and strategies. Corporal Adrian was an unknown, as was the crew of the Kellion. Clarke was more or less a known factor, as she had seen him in action. Thomas was the only one to have seen the corporal in a conscious state prior to now, so she would likely have to consult him, should something come up.

Not that anything ought to, seeing as this was going to be a simple go-and-fix mission.

"Alright then. Everybody load into the Kellion. Hammond, take us out whenever you're ready." Jane ordered, receiving confirmations from her team. As she entered the ship, she realized the Kellion was just as small as she had pecked it, though it did have the room to store the entire team. The two side-rooms were instantly hijacked by the heavy gunners, who tossed themselves on the couches. The rest of the team simply dumped themselves as well, preparing for a long and boring trip.

Meanwhile, Jane joined Clarke, Daniels and Hammond in the front of the ship, watching as the two men she had seen before, Chen and Johnston, operated the vessel out of dock. Having the pilots also be soldiers was, she supposed, a smart way to overcome storage-issues. On the other hand, if they got killed in a firefight with eventual pirates, who would fly the ship?

"Arcturus Control, this is the SSV Kellion. Are we cleared for use of the Arcturus Relay?" Corporal Chen asked, being the First Pilot.

"_SSV Kellion, this is Arcturus Control. You are cleared for use of the Arcturus Relay. Fly safe._" The voice of the traffic-controller came back. Chen nodded and ended the transmission. Fingers dancing over haptic displays with a speed that would have made Joker feel bad, he set the Kellion on course with the Relay and punched the engines, propelling the vessel into space.

* * *

January 6th

Cygnus system, Cygnus Cluster.

SSV Kellion, Wing Room.

09:15

Thomas was woken up unlike he usually was. This time, it wasn't a kiss on the forehead, mouth or a fresh tumble in the sheets that saw to his awakening, though of those would have been preferable. Neither was he rustled from sleep by someone yelling they were under fire, or that the commanding officer demanded they stand at attention.

Instead, Thomas was thrown from his sleep when the Kellion pulled a maneuver to avoid a large hunk of rock drifting towards them. Apparently, the gravity wasn't set to more than 1G, so when the ship turned, it was like sitting in a bus that received a kick from a giant. In short, he hit the wall with a painful yelp of surprise, though his armor helped protect him from the worst.

"Gods damn it! What the _Fuck!_?" He growled as he picked himself up, noticing that Nicolai seemed to be reaching for him, or rather, seemed to have been trying to hold him where he was before he was kicked by a frigate-class mule.

"We're in the system the Ishimura was last heard from. Captain says the vessel seems to still be here according to scans, though, big surprise, we can't get into comms with it yet." Hillary deadpanned in the middle of checking the condition of her Lancer. Considering the Ishimura was supposed to be a civilian mining vessel, Thomas found the act silly, but refrained from speaking. He and Hillary had enough tensions to work out without him adding ridicule of her pre-mission activities to the list.

Instead, he picked himself up, dusted off his armor and looked around for his helmet. Somehow, the damned thing had made it to the stairs leading to the main compartment of the small frigate. As he moved for it, another tremble shook the vessel, sending him stumbling forward instead, face-first towards the stairs.

"Whop. Can't have you breaking your nose, can we?" A filtered voice called, as a pair of strong arms caught him in his fall. Not immediately recognizing the voice, Thomas looked up, and into the azure lights from the specialized helmet worn by their resident N7-engineer. Clarke let him go, as well as handing Thomas the helmet.

"Thanks." He muttered. It was difficult being grateful to Clarke, with how the man had pissed Thomas off to no end while on Virmire. Even Jenny had had a better grip on military procedure than the N7. Still, the blackened helmet, combined with the light streaming from his horizontal double-visors, made Clarke intimidating enough that Thomas simply decided that professionalism was better suited for the situation.

"Alright, syncing orbit…Now." Thomas could hear one of the Kellion's crew say. He plumbed down next to Kaidan, and opted to wait for them to dock or attach to the Ishimura. Honestly, this was an unknown to him, as his life up until now had consisted of simply landing, killing or saving, taking off, recovering, repeat. Acting as repair-crew was an unknown to him.

"All this trouble over that chunk of rock…" A woman said. Seeing how he knew every woman on the Normandy-crew by voice, Thomas knew it was the woman, Kendra, speaking.

"Well, it's sufficient "rock" to churn out a pair of modern Dreadnoughts. And our trouble is just repairing the damn ship, not flying said rock home ourselves." Jane commented, drawing a humored smile from a few of the team members.

"Deep-Space mining is a lucrative business, miss Daniels." This time it was the black guy, what was his name? Hammond, that was it, speaking; "Aegis Seven is a goldmine according to prospectors' reports: Cobalt, Silicon, Osmium…"

"In short, enough to churn out dreadnoughts." Jane added, her comment drawing a smile from Thomas as well, this time around. At least she knew how to stay a little interested on a repair-op. _Oh well… I'll get to see what machines they use…could be fun._

"_There_ she is. Over there, in front of the planet." Hammond said.

"Where?" Clarke's voice was easy enough to recognize now, with him being the only one to have his voice filtered through a helmet already. There was a sigh, clearly from Jane;

"Next to the big rocks…"

"Ah, now I see it…The Ishimura is… not the prettiest ship I've ever seen." Clarke almost immediately muttered, though it was audible on the entire ship.

"The _MSV_ Ishimura." Hammond shot him down, almost like he took offense; "Biggest planet-cracker in her class, with almost sixty years or service." Thomas whistled at that. It meant the ship had been doing whatever planet-cracking was, for longer than Humanity had known about the Council or the Citadel. _Impressive…_

"Huh, looks like they popped the cork, so to speak." Jane mused. Thomas had no idea what she meant by that, but opted to not give a damn, and instead remain in his seat, where the ship couldn't kick him around again. Once was enough.

"Why is it all dark, I don't see any running lights?" Kendra asked. Thomas raised a brow at that, idly feeling for his sidearm, his trusty old, modded Carnifex that he had taken from a Cerberus guard, then loaned to Tequila while on Virmire. The module for increased stopping-power was something he hadn't seen on any other weapons, and as such, he took a certain pride in his price.

"Corporal, take us in closer and hail them." Hammond said. Immediately, the ship started whirring and generally making what could be called 'ship-sounds'; "And stay clear of that debris-field. We're here to relieve their ship, not to fix our own."

"MSV Ishimura. This is the emergency maintenance team of the SSV Kellion, responding to communications blackout. Come in, Ishimura." If there was a response, Thomas couldn't hear it from where he sat.

"You're gonna need to boost the signal if power's low." Kendra, being the tech-specialist, said.

"Thought crossed me too." Jane mused.

"Yes, we know." Hammond deadpanned, sounding somewhat annoyed by the female interference; "Boost the signal…More"

"Never heard of a total comms-blackout on one of these things. You'd think with a dreadnought-sized crew, someone would pick up the phone." Kendra said, though it wasn't clear to Thomas just who she was talking to. As he was looking at the people on the opposite side of the room, namely Boss, Tequila and Hillary, he couldn't see what was going on in the central compartment.

Suddenly, static and distorted sounds could be heard on the ship's intercom. For some reason, the sound sent a chill down Thomas' spine.

"Sounds like a busted array like we hoped. At least there doesn't seem to be any other vessel around, so no pirates." Kendra said. Thomas though, wasn't so sure a busted array would give him chills. As Roku was in the wing-room on the other side of the ship, he couldn't well ask the aspect.

"Trouble with the encoder maybe?" Isaac offered, to which Kendra gave an agreeing 'mmm';

"You get us down there, Isaac and I can fix it while the rest of you make sure the ship hasn't suffered damage from the asteroids."

"You heard the lady. Take us in, see what needs fixing." Hammond said, to which the ship whirred in reply as it changed course, adjusting to the much larger ship. Thomas sighed, closing his eyes as his fingers went to the small hammer hanging between his helmet and chest piece, resting on the part of the armor where flexible Kevlar and nano-weave made up for the weak link.

"Gravity-tether's engaged, automatic docking procedures are go." One of the pilots said. If they were staying with these people for a longer duration of time, Thomas needed to figure out who was who. Not that he had much time for consideration, as in the next instance, the ship was rocked by a new explosion. Something had crashed into them, thát much, he knew immediately.

"FUCK!"

"What the hell!?" the pilot cursed, as the ship almost tilted in its own trajectory.

"Aw crap…" Tequila muttered from her seat.

"I knew I hated this ship the moment I saw it!" Nicolai kicked the center table for emphasis as he cursed the ship, its makers, and the makers' mothers and grandmothers. By the time the ship was groaning louder than the man's swearing, at least five generations of mothers had been cursed. Thát, and the constant claxons of the alarms made a migraine emerge in Thomas' skull, each high-pitched tone like a knife in his brain.

A new trembling, and a feeling like the ship folded up on itself. Then, the crash happened. If Thomas had ever tried imagining what it would feel like, crashing the SR-2 on the Collector base, he guessed this would be a pretty good place to start. Despite the meter-thick hull, armor and kinetic barriers designed to swap away asteroids, the Chief could feel it as the vessel scraped on the surface of something much, much bigger, meaning they had _hit_ the damned ship they were here to fix. _If we survive this, whomever is captain of the ship is going to kill us all!_

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the ship stopped with a violent jerk, throwing the entire team of soldiers towards the end of the room, most of them landing in a pile of cursing, struggling bodies. Now, the migraine was _definitely_ there, and hammered away at Thomas' brain like a Krogan with a hammer.

The first sound he could pick up, aside from the sound of the engines dying, was Kendra chewing out Hammond.

"What the HELL!? What the hell were you thinking, are you trying to get us killed?"

"I just saved our asses, Miss Daniels. If we'd have aborted at that speed and distance, we'd have smashed right into the side of the Ishimura."

"Then I say "yay we're alive" if that's fine with you." Isaac shot in, causing Thomas to wonder if the man was mental, to make jokes right after a near-crash in outer space.

"Agreed. Settle down and get to work." Jane said; "Corporal, report."

"I'm not getting any readings. We've lost comms and auto-pilot… It'll take some time to fix." There was audible cursing from more than a few members of the team, as well as the two women in the main room;

"Damn it!" Jane cursed, then seemed to settle down; "Alright… this is a big ship. Let's get some guys from the flight deck to move their asses and help us out. Least the fuckers can do, since it was their fucked-up systems making us crash in the first place… oh yeah, plus we're here to help _them_, not the other way around."

"I knew this was going to go shit…" Hillary muttered, untangling herself from where her foot was stuck with the front beneath Thomas' head. With a yank, it was free and his headache intensified. Wanting to strangle her, but keeping it in, he crawled from the mass of soldiers and stood up, if unsteady at first. Then he managed to pull Ashley from the mess as well, and leaned against the side of the room, helmet off and massaging his temples.

"I hate repair-missions… and I hate new ships." He muttered, as the sound of hissing servos made it clear that the entrance was opening. Grimacing at the pain, he placed the helmet back on, and gave himself a small shot of Medigel to alleviate the pounding headache.

"We've still got a job to do. Let's move asses, people." Jane though, seemed unaffected by the crash. _I swear, one day, one of these soldier-women _will_ be the death of me._

Outside, another rather uncomfortable discovery awaited.

"You didn't lose power to the port-booster… you _lost_ the port-booster!" Kendra yelled at Hammond, pointing at the wrangled remains of the oversized thrusters. The sight made Thomas groan, as he didn't really fancy riding home in a mining-ship. _This'll take FOREVER!_

Instead of listening to Kendra giving Hammond a piece of her mind, Thomas checked his gear before moving down the long walkway, a suspended path of metal that led from the Kellion to a very official-looking door, complete with self-advertisement above. The Ishimura was, by the large screen, quickly proclaimed the practically perfect ship for anything from harvesting rock, to defeating the gods themselves at tug-of-war. _Wonderful…_

The ship's two pilots, Chen and Johnston, had already taken up positions by the first door, rifles out and at the ready. Thomas supposed that, given they were the security-detail, it was understandable. Still, as he looked back at the rest of the team exiting the more or less fucked ship, he wondered if it was necessary, considering the fact they were bringing enough potential firepower to scare the piss from the Blood Pack if need be.

"So… we've got ourselves one big ship, an annoying VI proclaiming how this unresponsive heap of flying shit is a masterpiece, and we have a fuck-all frigate to fly home in…" Hillary growled as she kicked a small container on the ground. It broke, revealing a credit-chit; "And they leave their moniez lying around, thank you very much, in fragile-as-shit boxes." She grinned as she stuffed the chit in a small compartment of her armor.

Thomas wanted to stop her, but then thought better of it. Already, their own group had suffered immense material damage, so a bit of collecting resources wasn't really in the way.

"I know… sounds almost like a bad horror-flick." Tequila mused. Despite her playful words, she did however tap her sidearm. Thomas smiled at that, realizing he at least wasn't the only one being jumpy after the near-crash. The only calm person was Roku, if one would call him a "person", that was;

"Then according to your collective horror-genre, this ship is abandoned and someone opened a hole into another dimension… I wonder then, who'll be playing the role of insane doctor, wanting us all to pass through?" The aspect said as they walked towards where Thomas was trying to find a control for the annoying screen.

Just behind the first opening, there was a small room with what could pass for a vending-machine in the corner. Thomas paid it no mind though, as he found what he was looking for in the shape of a contact reading "Entrance Hall: Announcement Screen".

"And… shut up." He chuckled, killing the announcement before turning around. Ashley was shaking her head at him, he could see that even behind her helmet. Figures really, he thought. He was sort of the enthusiastic one right now, finding what entertainment there was. Had to, really, considering they were going to be stuck on the old piece of planet-cracking rust for a while. _Well, at least I don't have to crawl around in vents and fix doors and antennas. Have fun with thát, Clarke._

"Well, door's locked." Chen noted after palming the interface in vain.

"Clarke, this your area?" Jane asked. Isaac stepped up to the door, cracked his fingers and launched into a flurry of finger-dancing that Thomas had a hard time following. After a few moments, the light in the panel flickered and died, leaving Isaac to sigh, then gave the door a kick.

"Well, would be, if power to it hadn't just died… I don't suppose anyone's got a fusion-cutter?" He asked, looking at the assembled group. Thomas started looking for one, but was interrupted by his own thoughts. _Dumbass… just burn it open._

Before he could voice his suggestion though, Roku stepped up to the door.

"Step aside please, and witness in awe my works." The aspect said, causing the crew of the Kellion to stare at him weird. Considering they thought he was at most a friendly geth, arrogance and religious wording would likely be among the last they had expected.

It didn't help on their amazement when a flicker of green, almost gaseous fire erupted at the tip of the mechanical middle finger, its sheer intensity brightening the room.

"Geth can do thát?" Adrian asked in amazement. Tequila shrugged;

"Like we said, Roku's special." She offered, smirking behind her helmet. Thomas sighed once again, a habit he was really tired of having picked up, and readied himself for entering the ship and a crowd of angry technicians who would undoubtedly be pissed that a geth had burned their nice door.

Meanwhile, Roku had burned through the lock for the door, and stepped back, allowing the actual crew of the Kellion entrance instead. What the crew hadn't been expecting, was their welcome-committee;

"FREEZE! SHIP-SEC!"

For some reason, they were being pointed at with guns.

* * *

**Cue the drumrolls please.**

**Please do leave a review, I need to know how the mixing of verses is going here. Dead Space is... well, difficult, to write properly. I know that a lot of you won't be scared of Necromorphs when you see them in games, and think them dull... but I'm going to make the crew piss themselves if things go as I plan them. **

**3:D**

**(Insert evil laughter here, then insert a review)**


	8. New Arrivals

**Writing horror is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Especially since my style is descriptive, some might just zoom out and... shutting up. Ah well, I can only do my best and **

* * *

**New Arrivals**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus system

Arrival Lounge, Flight Deck

10:03

"FREEZE! SHIP-SEC!" A woman shouted, blinding the team with flashlights.

Thomas squinted, shielding his eyes while his helmet adjusted to the new brightness, allowing him to see just what the Hel was going on. From what he could hear around him, most of the team had similar reactions, annoyed or frustrated grunts coming from most of them, as well as the sound of armor shuffling against armor, meaning someone was moving forward.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire, you fucking idiots!" Jane shouted, stepping forward. As his visor adjusted to the light, Thomas could start making out the people aiming actual guns at them.

There were five of them, clad in light, brown hardsuits and armed with Predator pistols. The first thing he noticed about the people themselves, was how utterly unlikely they looked as a unit. One was big enough to look Wrex in the eyes without the Krogan would have had to bow down. He was dark-skinned, with short, dark hair.

Another was, as if the universe wasn't fucked up enough already, a thin, almost bald woman whose remaining hair was tied up in long, blue tails, like some sort of Death Metal fan. Aside from those two, the people pointing firearms at him seemed somewhat more normal.

"This ship is under quarantine. Return to your ship immediately." The red-headed woman ordered, her gun leveled solely at Jane. There was a stress and frustration in the woman's eyes that spoke of a no-shit tolerance even lower than Jane's. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the sight of phase-II armor and military-grade weapons being raised in response; "Wait…You're Alliance Military?"

"Captain Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy. Now, why the fuck are you pointing guns at me and my team, and what's this shit about a Quarantine?" Jane didn't give an inch to the woman, which was understandable, seeing how the servos in her armor could probably let Jane rip the woman apart with her bare hands if need be.

"Fuck… guns down people." She seemed to become a little less prone to killing the new arrivals, and the team of hardsuit-clad guards or soldiers lowered their weapons. The leader stepped forward towards Jane, well-within reach of any sort of attack; "I'm Alissa Vincent, Chief of Security on the MSV Ishimura. This is my team, and we're tasked with ensuring nothing gets on or leaves this ship. We can't let you proceed."

"Wait, we're here to fix the communications-issue." Hammond said, pressing through; "What do you mean you can't let us proceed?"

"Like I said, we're under Quarantine. Something, some kind of infection spread on the colony of Aegis Seven while we were cracking the planet, and somehow it spread to the ship. We don't know what the hell it is, but we can't let it spread beyond the ship."

"Is it lethal?" Clarke asked, stepping forward. The sight of the N7-stripes made some of the officers whisper behind Vincent's back, something the blue-haired woman brought to an end with a voice that could only be described as more than pissed.

"We've lost contact with the colony itself, and seven crewmembers have already succumbed to some kind of hallucination-induced homo- and suicides. So yes, it's lethal, just not like you'd expect." Vincent explained, causing Thomas to relive one of his less pleasant memories. The mission to Feros, hallucinations… he'd been close to killing himself, believing Tali and John to be some sort of zombie-monsters…He shivered at the memory;

"Fuck…" Thomas muttered.

"Fuck's the right word. Comms are going haywire throughout the ship as well. Last time I had contact with the bridge, we were under a complete lockdown. I…" Vincent was cut off as her Omnitool chimed; "Finally. This is Vincent"

"_Vincent, get your team to hangar-bay D-7. A shuttle just crashed there from the colony. Arrest all those aboard it and quarantine them!"_ An angry, male voice shouted through the link. Vincent blinked but otherwise gave no indications of her thoughts.

"Understood." She said, ending the transmission before snapping to Jane; "Captain Shepard, make up your mind now. Either leave the ship _this instant_, or remain here in Quarantine."

"A few maniacs are _not_ stopping us from completing this mission. Clarke, head with Kendra and Hammond and fix whatever needs fixing. The rest of you, we're staying here till this shit's sorted. Understood?" Jane barked, looking at Thomas and the rest of the team. Considering they had already duked it out with a galaxy-ending Doom-squid, Thomas figured chasing loonies would at least make things interesting while waiting.

"Yes ma'am!" They replied in mostly-unison, the filtered voices of the helmets causing it to sound completely alike in the end. Jane nodded and turned to Vincent;

"We're ready to stay for however long this'll take. We're not leaving until the ship is fixed, and the way I see it, we can fix it by helping you. Lead the way." Jane said to the woman, tapping her sidearm.

"We get to play cops'n robbers? Sweet." Hillary chuckled, checking the safety on her rifle. Thomas shook his head at her less-than-serious attitude since coming to the mining-vessel, but kept silent as they started jogging after Vincent's team. All had their sidearms pulled, except for Hillary, who for some reason insisted to keep her Lancer ready instead.

"Pull it, Pennyloafer." Ashley said from in front of the private, causing the blond woman to cease her chuckles and at least act like she meant business. Thomas was content with letting Ashley handle whatever issues there could be with Hillary, and instead focused on where he was going.

"_Thomas?"_ A voice in his ear called. Tapping the device, Thomas looked around, noticing that they were a geth short of the usual.

"Roku? Where'd you go?"

"_I went with the technicians."_

"What? Why?"

"_I have my reasons. Take care."_ And with that, the aspect cut him off. _Hung up by a god… thát's not something most can brag about._

"Great…" He muttered, annoyed with the aspect. He was forced to simply stay silent though, as the team had reached the hangar they had been headed for. Jane gave the order to stop, while she and Kaidan went with Vincent's team. From what Thomas could see, they were headed for a civilian shuttle that seemed to have crashed in the middle of the large room, nosedived into a large stack of crates that were now spread about the room. Now, he simply watched from the sidelines as the security-team moved up on the shuttle.

"Form up." Vincent called, leaning against the hull of the shuttle, while her men and the two senior-officers of the Normandy-crew took up positions behind her, Kaidan ready with both his handcanon and an aura of purple gravimetric energy; "On my count."

As the team breached the shuttle, the rest of the group was forced to endure a few moments of silence. In that interlude, Thomas noticed something on the floor, leading away from the shuttle. It was a sight he had become fairly used to over the months. He had often been the cause of it, sometimes the source of it as well.

Blood.

"_Shepard here. Got a lot of blood, but no bodies."_ Jane called back through the comms. Blood. More blood. It always started with blood. _Great…_

"_Wait… we're coming back out. Someone walked out of here, there's bloody footprints on the floor."_ So, she had seen it too. Taking the returning shiver down his spine as the omen it usually was, Thomas holstered his Carnifex and pulled the Lancer from his back, checking its condition before noticing that a few of the others had done so as well.

"You know, this sort of reminds me of that movie, Doom, I think…" Hillary mused as she tapped a generous pool of red blood with the tip of her boot; "Lot of blood in that one too."

"So… pilot had the red while escaping?" Nicolai offered, gaining a laugh from Hillary and a smack over the back of his helmet from Tequila; "Right, right I get it." He muttered as the security-team stopped by the same place as them, looking at the blood.

"Well, it only leads one way. Vincent, you know who was on this thing?" Jane asked, glancing between the direction of the blood, and the chief of security.

"No clue, but it's a mining shuttle, plus the RIG-scraps we found inside indicate the pilot was likely one of the miners, trying to escape the planet. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine." Vincent huffed, pointing the flashlight on her Predator at the bloody trail; "Alright people, we have a direction. Let's catch this fucker _before_ he bleeds out on us."

As they jogged, following the trail, Thomas managed to get up next to one of the officers, the only one among them wearing a helmet, though it was more of a cap than anything else.

"Hey, what _did_ happen on that planet?" It sounded like thát one ominous thing that everyone was supposed to know about, and thus no one could talk about it.

"Some sort of mass-hysteria, I think. Happened right after they pulled the Marker from the ground. Just massive casualties, homicides, suicides, mental shit all around." The man huffed as they turned a new corner.

"Wait, what?" The word "Marker" was somehow familiar to Thomas. He knew he had heard it before, just couldn't remember when.

"What?"

"They pulled a "Marker" from the planet?" Thomas panted. While he had long-since gotten used to running in armor, running while wielding his rifle was bothersome. He just didn't care for it, but there were a lot of things he didn't care for, like Hillary's attitude towards his powers.

"Yeah, got the Uniotologists on the crew all riled up when news came in. the Chief seems to think the marker is connected to the string of murders and violence taking place on the planet. Fuck if I know, but I hope she's wrong." 'Uniotologists'? The words were causing his memory to whirr and hum as his mental clockwork went into overtime, trying to remember where he had heard about it before.

"Why'd you hope she's wrong?" He instead asked the man as they ran onwards, following the trail of blood towards an open doorway. The rest of the team had already stacked up around it, Vincent and Jane at the lead on each side.

"'Cause the Marker is onboard, and I'd really hate to start shooting crewmembers. Morgue's already filled with dead from the colony…" What was it with this "marker" and something Thomas was supposed to remember? _Come on, Brain. I know we haven't always been the best friends, but think for a moment, and I'll go back to killing you with beers when we're out drinking._

Apparently his brain had been listening. Like something emerging from the dark waters of the Black Lagoon, Thomas found his memories of the subject returning to him. He and Ash had been on a space station… the Citadel or Arcturus, he couldn't remember. They had been walking with Jennifer, and somehow started talking about some idiot on Titan where Ashley had been training. He had been a Uniotologists, and Ash had then told him about the Marker and…_ Oh right, those guys… Wait, wait so the ship is filled with religious fanatics?_

"Fucking great…" He muttered as he stacked up next to the others, rifle held at the ready. Their two heavy gunners still had their larger weapons strapped on their backs, instead wielding a shotgun and Tequila's old Pulse Rifle.

There were no words given, only hand-signals that ordered the teams into the room. As he entered the room, Thomas noted the words "Morgue" written above it. _Great, always wanted to see a morgue… not._

Thomas had never really been to a morgue before. When Anna had died at age four, back in the old world, he hadn't been to the morgue. He hadn't seen her little body when the paramedics had closed the bag. This, he was thankful for, as otherwise he likely wouldn't have been able to look his sister in the eye these days. _Fuck, got to get my head straight…_

The actual morgue was… not what he had expected, especially not on a ship where at least seven had died so far. Unless there was another morgue, he couldn't explain what he saw: It was empty. There were no bodies what so ever. There were no trolleys with dead colonials. No bags with dead crewmembers. There was just the room, and plenty of the opened containers supposed to house the dead.

"Where's all the bodies?"

"Maybe Jesus came by and they all underwent a miraculous reawakening?"

"Shut it, Dobbs." The blue-haired woman, Shen, snapped.

"Hey, just saying I wouldn't mind shooting the living dead, 's long as I get to shoot _something_."

"You're all insane…" Hillary concluded snidely, grinning as Dobbs chuckled, causing Shen to grow even more pissed.

"Okay… what am I missing?" Thomas muttered as he filed in, rifle kept at the ready. He didn't understand how there wasn't a single body, and from the looks of things, neither did the security-team; "Hey, wasn't there supposed to be at least a few dead guys in he-"

"Oh…" His foot had slipped on the floor, sending him flying to the ground, back first, where he landed with the hard clatter of P-steel on iron; "…Fuck."

"Jesus, Chief, can you fall just by standing?" Hillary teased as Tequila hauled him to his feet. The teasing tone was dropped the moment one of the soldiers shone a light on the floor. Everything seemed like it had been painted with a thick, red brush. Long tracks of blood covered just about every walkable surface, and pieces of humans were scattered all over the floor.

Thomas had slipped while stepping on what was left of a human hand.

"_Jesus Christo!_ The fuck is this?" The Hispanic corporal swore, kicking the hand as far away as she could, where it hit the wall with a wet thud.

"Spread out team, we have a possible murder on our hands here." Vincent ordered. Jane, while doing likewise, was visibly more affected by the discovery. Pieces of human flesh and limbs, shreds of intestines, a foot still attached to what was left of a leg. Kaidan was the only one who could know what sort of memories it would bring back for her.

Thomas swallowed the bile in his throat and brought a hand to his ear. This was so, so much more than just some maniac murdering a few crewmembers. Especially since there were no bodies. _Why are there no bodies?_

"Roku? Roku, it's me." There was nothing but static on the line. For once, Thomas would have been overjoyed to hear the annoyingly superior voice of his mentor on the link, but was instead answered with simple, eerie, annoying and horrifying static. He didn't even notice the woman, Alissa Vincent, walking next to him;

"Don't bother. Comms have been to shit all day." She said as if it was the most fundamental rule there was. Thomas himself wasn't scared of some maniac with an axe, or whatever the hell the owner of the hand had been killed with, but he was concerned for the rest of the team. None of them could set people on fire with a flipped middle finger, and if Tequila started tearing the hull open…

"Hey, Chief. I've found one." The guard Thomas had been talking to earlier called from a set of hospital-curtains; "You're gonna want to see this."

There was no single more foreboding sentence than thát, and Thomas deeply wished the man would just say 'Hey, I found a pregnant woman chopped in half' instead. At least then he'd know what they were about to find.

Even before he got there, the 'Holy fuck's and the less noisy 'Dear God's could be heard from those looking at whatever they had found. Thomas pushed his way through.

And threw up in his helmet.

The thing they had found, it was the single-most fucked up and disturbing piece of corpse Thomas had ever seen. A man was sprawled on his back, clad in the remains of a uniform, all drenched in blood. His body was torn open in several places, and his stomach was the worst, with the intestines hanging from a large, gaping hole, as if someone had simply _torn_ the man open with a large claw.

The thing that was even more fucked up though, was his arms. From the palms of both hands, actual _bone_ had pierced through, forming an organic blade that went longer than Thomas' underarm, ending in a tip dripping with blood. Thomas had only just managed to empty his throat of the first wave of bile when he saw what protruded from the man's stomach: a pair of extra, warped and crude arms, each sporting just three fingers. This was worse than anything he had seen from the Reapers' side so far.

And he threw up again, this time splashing liquids over the already soiled floor.

"Jesus, you never seen a dead guy before?" One of the guards, Hanson, asked.

"Well, I'm no doctor, but it almost looks like something's been… chewing on him." The guard with the helmet, Dobbs, said, poking the still steaming intestines with his baton.

"This shit's getting weirder by the second." The largest guard exclaimed, gun raised and ready for use. When Thomas managed to regain his standing with Ashley's help, he noticed that most of the team had done the same, with just himself, Kaidan and the blue-haired woman still wiping puke from their mouths. _By the gods! What the FUCK is this?!_

"Sounds a date with Shen."

"Fuck you, Rookie!" The woman in mention snarled, sweeping the room. Vincent opened her channel, obviously praying for the channel to be working. Meanwhile, Thomas kept staring at the corpse, eyes wide in near-animal fear. This was something he had never experience before. It wasn't just a corpse, it was a complete mutilation, like someone had tried making a work of fucked-up art on the poor bastard.

"Has it occurred to you jokers, that whatever or whomever did this…" Hanson started. In the same moment, Nicolai had his weapon, the M56A2 Exo-mounted tri-barreled minigun, swung free from his back and held in his hands.

"Bridge, come in. This is Vincent, we're in the morgue." While Vincent was trying to get through the static, Jane stood next to Thomas, looking at the corpse as well, while the guard, Dobbs, kept up his work, taking samples and examining the corpse.

"You okay, Fisher?" Jane asked as Dobbs picked some of the innards up with his baton. Thomas swallowed, the heavy stench of acid still burning his nostrils and the taste haunting his mouth;

"I… yeah. I mean… _Namira_, what the fuck is this shit even? Did a _human_ do this?" He asked in a throaty whisper, not wanting the others to know just how disturbed he was by the dead body. He'd killed more people and creatures than he cared to count so far, so why was this so deeply unsettling? He turned, trying to look through Jane's visor from the outside.

"I know what you mean. I've seen nothing like _this_ before, and… well fuck, I mean- GET DOWN!" Jane suddenly snapped to action, pulling her rifle in Thomas's general direction. The action startled him into movement, jumping out of her way no matter why she suddenly pulled the weapon.

The reason was revealed as Dobbs screamed. Thomas snapped around, eyes wide and stomach close to hurling once more. The corpse, the _dead_ man, was on its feet and assaulting Dobbs, biting into his hand as he tried warding it off.

"DOBBS!" Vincent yelled, grabbing the attacker, the _fucking dead guy_'s shoulders, trying to tear him from the struggling soldier. In a motion to fast for the woman to react to, the corpse swiped her away with the bladed arm, slamming Vincent into through the curtains. As soon as it hurled her away, the corpse renewed its attack on Dobbs, who was still on the ground, screaming, beating the feral corpse in the face with his baton.

Jane was on it the next second, her fist pulsating with biotic energy as she punched the attacker in the chest, liquefying his ribs and likely crushing his heart in the process. Thomas still stood as paralyzed when the attacker, for he was still unsure whether to call it "corpse" or "man", was right back on its feet, running towards Jane while roaring like something from a nightmare. Jane received it, hurling a warp straight at the face of the attacker, removing everything above the neck from existence. _Dear gods… please, what the hell is… this isn't real! Corpses are walking, attacking people… what is this?_

The corpse didn't stop running.

"FUCK!" Jane screamed, leaping to the side as an organic blade carved through the air, missing the captain by mere inches. Jane got back on her feet, only to face the creature again. Thomas kept staring in complete and utter fear, even as the rest of the team tried getting a lock without risking Jane's life. _What… what… is… what is this? What is… this is… what… _

A metal chair to the back slammed the creature away from Jane before it swiped at her again, causing it to stumble across the room, now clear of any unintentional targets. It snarled and gurgled, roaring like a diseased creature from the depths of Oblivion or Hel itself._ Gods… what the… what… the Hell IS THIS?!_

"OPEN FIRE! OPEN FIRE!" Thomas didn't register who had shouted it, but the words finally snapped him into action. He hardly paid any attention to his own hands as he brought the Lancer to his eye, aimed at the walking corpse and pulled the trigger. His fire joined that of the rest of the team, slugs and plasma tearing the creature to pieces.

And it didn't go down.

He pulled the trigger at where its heart should be, shooting until his gun screamed in protest, and yet the zombie-like creature didn't die. It just kept staggering backwards, roaring at the humans as it tried getting through their fire.

Finally, what brought it down was when blue plasma seared through its abdomen, separating it from both its legs. The creature still roared and snarled, clawing its way towards the team as if it wasn't dragging steaming, bleeding intestines behind it in a mockery of defying death.

Shen was by Dobb's side the very next second, kneeling next to him as she worked on stopping the bleeding from his wounds. The creature had bitted out a large chunk near his upper shoulder, and the wound was pouring blood onto the floor, causing the applied Medigel to simply be washed away when it failed to find any sort of purchase in the mangled flesh.

"Vincent to bridge! We were attacked, don't know by what exactly, requesting support in the morgue, I don't know-"

"Vincent! Dobbs is dying!" Shen yelled over the Chief's voice.

"Shen, shut- SHEN, GET DOWN!" Vincent screamed. Acting as if on instinct, Shen threw herself on Dobbs's dying form, hugging as close to the ground as she could. The rest of the team, Thomas included, opened fire as another of the creatures emerged from a doorway, this one wearing the tattered remains of a nurse. Locks of red hair still hung before the dead eyes of the nurse as the corpse ran forward, only to be met by a storm of slugs poured at it from the team of soldiers and guards.

Blue plasma was again what brought it down, Boss aiming to incapacitate the seemingly immortal creature by simply shooting its arms and legs off with his rifle. Configured into its close-encounters mode, it was effective enough at the current range to burn through the necrotic flesh of the charging monster.

The creature dropped dead, armless and riddled with holes in every part of the body. A silence, devoid of anything even close to relief, hung in the room. The entire team of hardened soldiers, some of them having stared down the hordes of Sovereign, stared in disbelief at the scene.

"What…the…" Tequila was the first to find her voice.

"…fuck" Nicolai finished as the corporal trailed off. His fingers clutched the gun in his hands, the Kevlar in his inner gauntlet straining under the pressure.

"What the FUCK was that?!" Ramirez, one of the guards, yelled, lowering his gun.

"I don't know! Fuck this shit, let's get the fuck out of here!"

"Okay people, man the fuck up. Whatever these things are, they're loose on the ship, so snap the fuck out of it, and check your guns." Vincent ordered. Thomas kept staring at the scenario in front of him, unable to process what had happened.

Dead people just came back and attacked the living… _What the fuck?_

"You heard the lady." Jane snapped, seeing as only the guards had snapped to attention at the order; "Check your gear and heat sinks. We're dealing with a whole new type of shit here."

"Yeah no shit. Dobbs is fucking dead! What the hell was thát thing?" Shen yelled, pointing at the creature in a nurse's uniform.

"Alenko?" Hillary asked in a low voice. The lieutenant looked at her, frustration and stress showing in his movements; "That bet? Forget about it, I really wish I'd lost."

Thomas, having no idea what was referred to, instead sought out Ashley as the group started moving, following Alissa Vincent, as her knowledge of the ship's layout would likely prove their salvation. If nothing else, it would spare them the wild panic of being lost.

"…Ash?" He asked through their private link with a small voice, more terrified of what the attack had done to her than what he had gone through. Fear was one thing, but fear for her… it ate him up. He knew he could likely survive, even if he was the last person left against whatever these things were, but he feared exactly that scenario, that thought, of losing her. It had always been there, but now they were fighting monsters that ignored bullets.

"I'm fine, I'm okay… just… You?" She said, her voice coming off as shaky but coherent. Something disturbed the visual link, preventing eye-contact. He didn't care, as long as she was as safe as he could make it, he would be without looking upon her face. He knew, he knew she was an outstanding soldier… _So why am I sweating like this? Face it, I'm fucking terrified! _

As Thomas tried formulating a response that wouldn't be a complete and utter lie to calm her worries for him, Vincent tried contacting the bridge again, and this time, actually got through;

"Vincent to bridge, over!" She called, and this time even received a video-feed, displaying captain Mathius' stern and frustrated expression to the rest of the team.

"I want a report, Vincent." The man ordered, seemingly utterly indifferent about the Alliance soldiers he was seeing behind Vincent.

"Something's going on sir, something _alien_ is attacking us."

"Batarians?" The old captain demanded. Jane stepped in then, forcing the man to realize the presence of the Alliance Military.

"She said something _alien_. We know what Batarians are, so I advice you get the ship placed on highest alert, because you're under attack from something_ none _of us have seen before." Jane ordered the man more than advised him, causing her equal in rank to furrow his brows in clear anger at being told what to do.

"Who the Hell are you?"

"Captain Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy. Now place this flying heap of shit on highest alert, the fucking _dead_ are walking!" Jane ended up shouting, the stress of the situation causing her to lose her nerve with the older captain. As the man was about to retort, someone ran up behind him, saying something to the man that none of the soldiers could hear. Then, the feed ended, and the team was left in silence.

And as the silence hung, it began to resound with the echoes of human screams. The death screams of humans, men and women, echoed down the halls of the ship. Thomas glanced around, seeing the uneasy and downright terrified faces and stances of his friends, colleagues and make-shift comrades. They were all frightened, as their leader had just worded the thoughts of everyone present. _The dead are walking…_

The feed then reappeared, snapping those close to it out of their frightened stupor;

"Vincent, take your team to A-deck on the double." Mathius barked, ending the feed before anyone could ask a question. Almost in the same second as the transmission ended, alarm-claxons started blaring their warnings across the entire ship.

"On our way." The leader said to the air previously taken up by the video-feed, then turned to the rest of the group, the new arrivals as well; "Make sure your weapons are good, I think we're about to walk into a world of shit."

"Talos protect us all..." Thomas muttered quietly, fingers idly touching the hammer hanging from his neck as they ran, following Chief Vincent through the halls of the Ishimura. Hearing the screams of panic, agony and death, Thomas wished he had never complained that the mission was a dull one.

The team piled up near the first larger door, Vincent taking the first look inside. She quickly withdrew her head from the opening;

"Shit… I count at least a dozen of them, grouped up in the corridor. There's no way we're getting through that many of those things with what we have." She hissed, then seemed to think of something, and snapped to Tequila and Nicolai, both standing with their heavy weapons ready; "But, if you can use those things to tear through them, we might be able to do this. Anything comes from behind, we'll keep them off your backs."

Her tone of voice made it rather clear that it wasn't a suggestion.

"Fuck me… fuck me, fuck me…" Nicolai groaned as he stepped out in the open, shoulder to shoulder with Tequila. Even before they had started spinning up the guns, the creatures saw them, and started a mad dash of undead violence towards the Alliance soldiers; "Fuck me… fuck me, fuck, fuck, FUUUCK!"

The weapons spun, and slugs the size of grains of sand poured out in a hailstorm of destruction towards the charging creatures. There was no slowing of the monsters' pace, as each acted as a shield for those behind it, sucking up the slugs enough to spare those behind until they fell to the onslaught. Each creature, however dead and destroyed its form, kept crawling towards the soldiers, even by the use of dragging themselves forward by their teeth, sharp and twisted pieces of jagged bones protruding from their skulls.

"JUST FUCKING DIE!" The man screamed, clutching his massive weapon as it poured slugs towards the creatures. They all realized, even as Nicolai's weapon started screaming in protest against the heat, that the creatures were still standing, and only as many as ten had been felled by enough firepower to take on an army. Nicolai, in his apparent haze and bloodlust combined with fear, kept pressing the trigger for his weapon, even as it refused to fire.

Tequila's then decided to follow suit, leaving the remaining monsters free to charge on, set on their path of mass slaughter that would start with the defending soldiers.

"Shit, Shiiiit, Open fire!" Jane shouted. Instead of adding her own rifle to the storm, she raised her hands, both embalmed in biotic energy, and formed a barrier between them and the monsters. The strain on her nerves started the moment the monsters, undeterred by the incoming fire, reached the barrier; "Where the fuck's an Adept when you need one?!"

"Right here!" Kaidan shouted, adding his own biotic power to hers. The barrier reinforced, it seemed the team was able to hold the undead, even with the monsters being nigh unkillable; "Captain, how do we fight an entire horde of these things?"

"Fisher!" the captain shouted, snapping Thomas from the singular purpose of puncturing the skulls of the dead with a terrified, but true aim. Most of his rounds hit the bodies only, but those that hit the head caused a fountain of grey matter and blood to explode out the other end, spraying fragments of rotten skulls behind the creatures; "Burn them!"

His finger stopped on the trigger, animal fear taking over as he looked at what Jane wanted him to do. She wanted him to get_ close_ to the monsters. She wanted him to go back to his hallucinations, to John and Tali biting and tearing at him, to Liara vomiting acid towards him, to his friends turning undead monsters with the sole purpose of slaughtering him.

"What!?"

"BURN THEM! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Jane now screamed, her voice strained to the point of hoarse breaking as new undead kept pouring at the barrier. They had long-since killed the initial dozen, and now faced numbers unseen by any of them.

Thomas stared at the mass of writing, roaring and gurgling bodies. His fingers twitched with fear as he looked at the undead. He looked death in the eye and blinked. He looked death in the eye, and _cowered_.

He then received a hard slap across the helmet. Blinking and groaning from pain, he saw Hillary, firing her rifle with just one hand while threatening to hit him again with the other. He looked around, and he saw his friends, colleagues, loved ones, his family. They were fighting for their lives. The barrier was starting to wobble, blades poking through from the other side.

The barrier was going to fall.

His family was going to die.

Because of him.

"Thomas! Snap the fuck out of it!" Hillary shouted, firing a burst into the skull of a creature, beheading it with a spread of pellets from her underslung shotgun. The world seemed to slow down around him.

Gunfire became slow flashes.

Screams and shouts were muffled.

Jane kept shouting at him, her stance growing more and more desperate and strained.

The she fell backwards.

The barrier failed.

The monsters hesitated for the blink of an eye.

Then they started pouring through, their uneasy gait no hindrance to their speed.

Thomas pressed his eyes shut, leaving himself in the darkness, tears welling from his eyes as he heard the panicked screams of his comrades, his family.

"THOMAS!" A voice screamed in fear. _Ashley! Gods, what- FUCK NO! YOU WILL NOT HAVE HER!_

His eyes snapped open, his vision emerald and sharp, as was it broad daylight.

"**YOU WILL NOT HAVE THEM!" **He didn't even realize that his voice came out distorted, like it had back on Pragia. Back when he had been consumed with hatred and a desire to kill, maim and torture had taken him over.

Now, it was the desire to protect those he loved. The desire to utterly _destroy_ whatever tried to take his loved ones from him. In the snap of a finger, he saw all that was. He saw his failings, he saw those who would die, knowing he could have saved them, had he only acted sooner.

Rage. Power. Anger. Wrath.

Even as a monster ripped through the jaw and face of Security Officer Hanson, Thomas' burning form ripped it apart in return, boiling away the dead organic tissue that had been the seemingly immortal beast. Turing on the spot, he smashed the bionic fist through the skull of the next beast, before tearing its arm straight from the necrotic shoulder, stabbing down with the organic blade through its head.

He turned again, seeing his team, his friends and family, fighting for their lives. He prioritized, selecting those who needed help the most above those he personally wanted to aid more than any others.

He descended, body coated in a film of fire, upon the undead creature trying to rip Hillary's face from her neck.

Hands aflame with a wrath and anger incomprehensible to a normal human, he burned the creature from skull to waist, kicking away the incapacitated form as he proceeded on his rampage, boiling a creature apart at the waist that had been in the process of stabbing the largest of the guards in the chest, even as others overwhelmed the man.

Thomas purged them, flaming hands clawing at their deceased forms with bestial rage, breaking those he didn't outright _burn_ from existence. One was about to carve through the jaw of the man, and was pulped into the ground for its trouble, reduced to a pit of singed tissue. The officer, seemingly startled and somewhat terrified at his savior, would manage the last creatures attacking him alone.

* * *

**So, Thomas finally snapped... can't say I blame the guy, when the things you want to kill _already are dead_. Must seem like a cruel joke to him, what with his previous disdain for death, now the dead are attacking.**

**And, yes. I did it here. I did something that a lot of people have thought about doing, and some have even done it: I called Shen's hair fucked-up.**

**Ah well, what can you do? I enjoy Dead Space a lot, even if I'm currently stuck in the hospital with the Hunter, having "geniously" traded all my best ammop for the level 3 RIG... I think Isaac hates me for that one, even if he's actually the one to blame. Bugger could just stop looking so badass in his new armor.**

**Oh well, R&R, even if I have no idea what the second R is for... rate? No clue. Anyone knows?**

**Anyway, send me your thoughts, ideas or even religious confessions or wishes for Christmas. They all count on the bar, and I love your thoughts on my work, even if said work sometimes is retarted. :)**


	9. My iron skin

**Oh Hai there :)**

**Well, here's another chapter in the story, in case that wasn't obvious. Also, I changed this from horror to sci-fi, as I tend to focus a lot more on non-horror parts than I focus on the horror-parts, so... yeah well, just read :)**

**In this part, we focus maninly on Tequila, as she deserves a bit more attention. Also, we'll once again see the reason for the "Supernatural" label on this story. Gods, do I love writing Supernatural stuff in this story. It gives a sort of freedom impossible to come by for the regular version of novelizations of Mass Effect. Not that those are bad, mind you, not at all.**

**This chapter was written to the 1 Hour verson of "Glorious Morning" by Waterflame. Any of you guys ever played "Age of War"? Well, that's the music for it. Found that it went well with a badass Tequila... said too much now, just enjoy another chapter, yes? :)**

* * *

**My iron skin**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Inner corridors, Flight Deck

11:52

"FUCK. YOU! FUCK. YOU!" Tequila screamed, having dropped her weapons in favor of bashing one of the creatures to a pulp by hammering it with a torn-off piece of the wall. While the thing weighed more than twice her weight, the flow of energy running through her system caused her to barely feel the weight, as she used it to cave in the thing's skull and block its bladed arm from cutting her in half.

A bump to her back, caused by one of the creatures' arms having been cut clean from its shoulder and dropped through the air, caused her eyes to briefly glance around as the creature, now a broken mess of bones and rotten flesh, slumped on the ground with a pathetic growl, like a dying hyena.

The entire room was a mess, a chaos. People, team members and security-officers were fighting for their lives, shooting and pulsating with biotic energy as they fought desperately to stave off the horde of mutated dead. If she hadn't been in the process of planting her heavy, metallic boot in the remains of the skull belonging to one of the creatures, Tequila would have found it funny how the "Day of the Dead" back home, would now be forever changed for her.

She saw Thomas falter as Jane ordered him to go into his "mode", his posture slackened to that of a paralyzed man. She'd seen it before, in the army, how people would face things and events they couldn't handle or comprehend, and respond by simply trying to shut it all out.

Before she could try shouting at him or otherwise gain his attention by kicking his sorry excuse for a soldier-ass, a new creature, she might as well just call it a zombie, leapt at her, fanged mouth uttering a guttural roar of complete and utter mindlessness. The discovery that bullets did remarkably little, hadn't deterred her for long, and the creature was met by the flat end of her personal piece of wall, the metal crumbled up into a makeshift bat. With a wet snap, its head went flying into the wall, causing its body to stumble but otherwise continue on its course towards her.

"AND FUCK YOU TOO!"

"Thomas!" As she swung the metal at the head of the zombie, Tequila picked up Williams shouting over the comms. She refused to pay any attention to it though, as the fact that the fucker in front of her had _caught_ her bat, meant she was going to be screwed unless something came up. She kicked it in the chest instead, the servos in her armor enabling her to cave in the visible ribs in its body, likely crushing whatever organs hadn't already rotted away, since apparently rotting went a whole lot faster when people became zombies.

That didn't mean the zombie did much more than stumble at the attack, as if she had simply flipped it off. Considering her options, she might as well have. With a screeching sound, her bat was torn in half by the zombie, leaving her more or less defenseless. Pulling her sidearm, a Carnifex she narrowly avoid one gracing hit from its blades, before another slammed into her shoulder, cutting a deep gash into the armor before simply stopping, leaving the blade stuck in her pauldron. The thing simply raised the other arm, prepared to skewer her with a single cut.

Snapping to a response, her handgun changed hands, allowing her to block the fucker's blade by grabbing the arm with her own right hand. The thing was _strong_. Even the servos in her armor strained against the sheer necrotic muscle it utilized, motors whirring on her back as the weave in her arms assisted her.

Then, _bang_, and the rotted limb flew from the shoulder, courtesy of a close-range impact from a Carnifex-fired slug. Tequila prepared to kick the thing away, as it simply, and abruptly, went silent and went down. Dead. It took a moment for it to kick in for her, as she was still standing with the remaining of its arm in her grip. Then…

"YEAH! FUCK YOU TOO… TWICE!"

"**YOU WILL NOT HAVE THEM!"** A new voice suddenly boomed over the chaos and noise, causing even the zombies to halt, if only for the blink of an eye. Then, all was back to the status quo, with humans fighting for their lives as former crewmembers-turned-zombies did their very best to swarm them.

Tequila saw one of the guards, the blonde man, trying to shoot a zombie in the head with his Predator. The creature responded to missing its head by slicing half his face off, leaving the dying guard to stumble and fall to the ground.

A split-second later, a green claw of fire ripped through the zombie. Even as the two parts fell to the ground, the upper part tried clawing its way towards the rest of the team, oblivious to the fact that Tequila's heavy boot came down upon its head, covering the metal floor with mushy liquids.

The sound of fire burning tissue, and dying gurgles, drew her attention to where the largest guard was fighting off two zombies at once, punching one, then tossed it at another. At his feet, a zombie that had been split from head to crotch, was still twitching as it had been pulped by something of _massive _strength.

Then, she saw him, or it. What Tequila saw, was Thomas' form as he, hands aflame, ripped downwards through a zombie that had assaulted Ashley. The thing burned to a crisp around his fists, roaring more in rage and bestial hunger than in pain or even annoyance. She saw as Ashley froze momentarily at the sight of her lover filled with power and rage, then the woman went back to shooting the next zombie in the knees, incapacitating it before overheating her rifle in its body's vital areas.

Further observations were interrupted as Tequila herself was onset anew. The gurgling monster was different from the rest, its rippled skin black, its eyes shining with a diseased light. As opposed to the other monsters who had simply thrown themselves at her, this one moved between Tequila and the rest of the group, undead eyes focused on her with the mindset of a predator, not a mindless beast.

Rearming herself, Tequila tore up the floor directly beneath the both of them, sending the zombie to the floor as she wrenched the metal in her hands, forming a serrated edge sharp enough to rend flesh like a crude knife. The metallic weapon was as big as her normal rifle, but weight substantially more as she swung it towards the black monster.

Moving faster than the others as well, it dodged the blade, then swung at her, the blackened bone aiming for the same cut made previously by another of its kin. Tequila jumped back, slamming her back against the wall to avoid the blade. _Fuck, this thing's smart?_

Seeing the zombie come at her again, she swung the blade at its feet. The blade carved into its legs, but lodged itself in the back of its knee, stuck for all intents and purposes. As she tore to pull it free, the beast roared and raised both bladed arms to chop her up like a piece of meat.

Her weapon still lodged in the thing's leg, Tequila saw the blades coming towards her, and realized she wasn't going to be able to free her own blade before the thing would rend her through. Sickly, mutated arms from its stomach grabbed for her, clawing at her armored arms. !_JODER! _

Forced to watch the blades coming towards her in what seemed like slow-motion, Tequila bit her lip and felt panic rise in her body. Then, she snapped and grabbed the wall behind her, armored fingers digging through the inch-thick sheet of metal plating the wall. _Not gonna make it! JODER!_

Even as her clenched fist started pulling the metal from the wall, the blades reached her chest.

* * *

Boss Delta Thirty-eight snapped to the monster trying to jump him. It was a disgusting abomination of life, and it was even more a transgression because it was an innocent human, murdered and turned into something not even the Dark Lords of the Sith could possibly forgive in creation.

With reflexes and dexterity born of years and years of training and breeding, he grabbed the monster by the throat, jabbed his wrist-blade into its skull before tearing the head off, then sliced through the arms of the demagolka, the monster. It fell dead to the ground, twitching.

Boss had lost a lot in the months prior to this. First, he had lost Sev Oh-Seven once, on Kashyyk. Then, they had all somehow ended up in the galaxy known as the Milky Way, which, if the star charts he had read were accurate, was in fact the neighboring galaxy to his own. The Force works in mysterious ways, he had accepted that long ago. Not even a month after their collective resurrection and reunion with Sev, he had lost the grizzled soldier again. Losing a brother twice was… hard, he thought. Then, he had lost Fixer, the most reliable and stable soldier he had ever met, to something as demeaning, crude and simple as a vehicle-crash. And now, Scorch had borderline deserted, leaving him the sole Vode in a crew of comrades.

Losing his commanding officer had been one of the last straws the Lieutenant could take, and as such, when he cut apart the monster, it was with a roar of long-repressed rage;

"DIE! _DEMAGOLKA!_"

He didn't allow himself to pause in his rage though, as he with the professional and cold efficiency he had been trained to live, breathe and eat, yanked his blaster back out and began taking shots at the enemies where he could avoid hitting allies. One that was about to impale the redheaded security-officer from behind received a singed hole in its head, enough to make the skull explode as the brain cooked. The woman whipped around in time to bash the creature away and, and shoot its legs off.

Boss wasn't certain how some members of their group had figured it out, but he had had the suspicion that the limbs were their weaknesses, ever since the second monster was dropped with simply a few bolts searing off its arms. It hadn't been enough to act upon, but food for thought.

The sound of metal tearing made him snap around, finding one of their heavy gunners, Corporal Aquila, under attack from a black demagolka. She was in the process of some action Boss found himself uncertain of, but he saw what the monster was doing. It was about to kill her, and whatever she planned, she would be too late.

Blaster whipped up, he pulled the trigger, sending out a volley of precise and lethal plasma-bolts, each the temperature of a small thermonuclear reaction, suspended in a magnetic state until release. He watched the bolts fly...

* * *

Even as her clenched fist started pulling the metal from the wall, the blades reached her chest. Her eyes widened in fear, and in the realization that she would die now, this day and moment, because she hadn't been fast enough. _Dios mio, Joder! Fuck! I'm not ready!_

There was no sound but that of the constant fighting and the sound of fire burning through tissue whenever Thomas laid waste to another zombie. There was no sound, but the sudden sound of plasma boiling through hardened skin and muscle and bone, and the snapping, wet sound as both the black zombie's arms were seared from its body at the elbows, leaving them to hit her armored chest, but clatter against it instead of piecing and shredding. _Wha…_

It was all the time she needed to finish the act. Wrex had, in their second week of training, taught her something that he had stressed was more than just dangerous if done wrong. If done wrong, one wouldn't necessarily _die_ from it, but instead risk a fate worse than death.

Fingers still dug into the metal, she dropped her weapons on the ground with her free hand, and turned with the momentum, coming face-to-face with the wall as the metal in her right hand started wrapping itself around her back, hugger her body in a thick layer of steel and bolts pulled like a sheet. Hitting the rest of the wall, she closed her eyes against the impact, but remained in control. Wrex had stressed more times than she could count, how control was the key to not end up either crushed to mashed Pyjak, or trapped in her self-imposed prison forever._ Fuck, I hate this stunt._

The worst part, even when she could successfully form the armor back on Arcturus, had been the process of carefully, _very_ carefully, peeling away the opening for her mouth and eyes. It had to be done_ after_ the protection was formed, which meant she had to possess enough control as to not either crush her own head, or rip out her eyes in the process.

The upside was, she could feel one of the zombies hacking on her armor, but not getting through. _Got you._

With her right hand, now wrapped in five centimeters of reinforced iron, she formed what could best be described as the hand of a physically handicapped Turian, two thick claw-like fingers carefully grabbing a hold of her "helmet's" front, peeling the iron skin away like the skin of a grape.

She screamed in pain as she pulled out hair and opened a gash on her forehead, but now at least her vision was free. Next up, and easier, was the mouth.

Now, "dressed for the occasion", as Van Zandt would have said it, she turned around to face the chaos.

So far, three had died. Hanson, the blonde guard, lay on the ground missing most of his head, while the Mexican, Ramirez, was slumped against the wall, missing most of his lower body. Shen, the brash, blue-haired woman, was being ripped from the blade of a larger, fatter zombie that most of all resembled a pregnant version of the regular fuckers. The woman's dying screams rose above the chaos, the high pitch of her shrill screams causing Tequila to shudder in her encasing protection.

But she wasn't scared. She wasn't going to be scared. She _refused_ to be scared as the walking dead ripped her allies apart in front of her. Thomas had already tackled the fat zombie, tearing through its body while standing in a shower of fluids washing from its torn stomach, frying to ashes what seemed like little hands clinging to him, trying to get through a type of protection they hadn't been evolved or revived for.

Seeing the offending zombie that had tried clawing through her new armor, Tequila took the time to crack her knuckles through the armor, an exercise Wrex had stated would either prove she had control… or break her hands. So far, her hands were just fine, and as the monster came at her again, roaring and snarling, she caught its bladed arm with her own, ironclad hand, and snapped it like a rotten twig. The second blade came down on her shoulder, impacting with both power and force enough to likely shred her regular armor, but only dented her current shell of iron.

"Not so fucking tough now, huh?" She yelled, letting the boiled-up frustrations out as she punched the zombie in the head, the energy in her body acting like servos to the armor. The skull didn't cave in as she expected, instead it flew straight from the shoulders with a wet, tearing sound, leaving its body to flail around its remaining arm, trying to slash the armored woman.

Instead of aiming downwards, the zombie sent its blade swooping horizontally, while the sickly mutated hands protruding from its stomach felt for her, bereft of eyes. The blade hit her in the side, causing the inside of her armor to resound earsplittingly with the denting of metal as the blade got stuck.

Snapping down her elbow, Tequila broke its wrist before grabbing and simply tearing it off. Ignoring the blade in her side for now, she grabbed the _conõ's_ upper arm and tore it straight from the shoulder before aiming an iron-clad fist at and through its chest cavity, effectively punching a hole straight through it. As it staggered backwards from the blow, Tequila aimed a high stomp to its knee.

The force of impact was enough to not only break, but completely snap the appendix from the rest of its body, leaving the creature to fall dead to the ground, only a single leg remaining. Caught up by her own rage, Tequila stomped what remained of its chest in, her heavy iron-clad boots meeting the floor beneath with little resistance;

"_Hijo de puta!_" She hissed in her native tongue as she stomped again, for good measure, and then turned back to the fight. The first thing she saw, was the redheaded chief of security, Alissa Vincent, on the ground, struggling to keep one of the black zombies at bay. Both the woman's hands were employed in her fight for survival, and the creature was proving to be the stronger, as its snapping and snarling jaws of deformed teeth inched closer and closer to her face. _Well fuck, not today._

Shrugging off what attacks were levelled against her own person, her armor protecting her better than even the heavy-duty Bulwarks were likely to be capable of, Tequila made her way through the chaos of the fight, aiming for the closest person to her that needed help.

With the same brutality and speed she had seen Wrex employ when he demonstrated the armor for her, she punched an open fist into the neck of the zombie and tore, ripping head and upper spine from the creature. It changed target from Vincent to her instead, and came at her headless, the throat still offering some guttural snarls. She took the first and second hit, allowing the undead crewmember to get its blades stuck in her thickly armored shoulders.

Grinning darkly beneath her armor, Tequila then yanked out the snapped-off blade that had been stuck in her side since the last zombie had been at her, and chopped down on the zombie's right arm. She smirked, cutting the arm off just a little above the mutated elbow, causing it to snap like a rotten stick, and black fluids to fly from the wound.

Tequila felt herself being carried away on the rush of adrenaline flowing through her body, and proceeded to cut off the leg, before she broke the fucker's other arm. Bereft of its grip, the creature fell to the floor, trying to kick towards her on its last remaining limb. Before Tequila could curbstomp it into the ground, Vincent was on her feet and had shot the last leg off. The undead body then twitched and lay still.

Tequila snapped to look at Vincent, the woman seemingly intact. Still, the Chief stared at Tequila like she had seen a ghost.

"**I WILL PURGE YOU!"**

The shout came with so much anger, rage and power, that Tequila could feel herself shivering from it. It had been Thomas, obviously. The Service Chief was surrounded by more undead crewmembers than Tequila had even seen enter the room, and he was repeatedly tearing them apart, limbs and whole bodies at a time.

Whenever the zombies slashed at him, and they all did, with bestial and mindless rage and hunger to boot. Tequila once believed the most mindless killers in existence would be humans. Then, she had reified that to be the Xenomorphs instead, and then the Husks of humans that Saren had used. The Xeno's, after all, had proven to be intelligent animals, not some abomination of life.

But now, as she saw the zombies hack and slash in vain at Thomas' immolated form, she knew that mindlessness was given a whole new meaning here. Still, she knew even he wasn't invulnerable. Just very hard to kill.

"You alright?" She snapped to Vincent, scanning the woman to see anything missing, like a hand or eye.

"Most of my team's dead, we need to pull back and regroup." The chief of security exclaimed over the deafening snarling and roaring coming from the monsters in the room. True, Tequila realized. Only the large guard remained alive, and he was sporting several severe-looking gashes and tears in his armor.

"Can you get the wounded to safety? I'll try helping Fisher." And without waiting for Vincent to reply, Tequila started off towards the thickest of it, trusting her armor to keep her more or less safe from harm. The openings at her eyes and mouth were still big enough though that a well-aimed attack could go through her helmet, visor and all, and into her head._ Fuck, this reminds me of Therum…_

Only this time, as she was now clad in an almost unbreakable shell of thick iron, Tequila wasn't worried about being speared or slashed. The Xenomorphs had had acid, so that would have done her armor in, but these things. These things were ideal for her armor.

A zombie tried its luck at her as she was stomping her way towards Thomas, each step leaving an impression in the floor. She caught it in the shoulders, breaking off both arms before hacking both the organic blades straight down its body. The wrists of the blades broke as she passed the first ribs, but the effect remained, as the creature went down, the coup de grace being delivered by a stomp to the head.

As she reached where Thomas was fighting, a panicked yell came from close by. Snapping around, she found Nicolai to be backed into a corner, blasting away with his shotgun. A pair of incapacitated undead already showed the trail he had backtracked on, while another three were only held back by the fact that the pellets from his shotgun seemingly had managed to tear off their arms. Instead, their snapping jaws were towards him, less than a meter between their deformed fangs and his visor. Tequila knew from earlier, from Dobbs, that the things had no trouble biting through ceramics, and probably not the advanced P-steel either.

Seeing the danger he was in, an unexpected surge of anger, of rage, rose in her;

"Get the fuck off him!"

Gritting her teeth, she stomped her way to the first of the zombies, before delivering a devastating punch that tore straight through its mutated, necrotic body. All three turned on her as a result, snarling and snapping in rage and hunger.

"Teresa! What are you doing?!" She heard Nicolai shout. In the dim lighting of the room, it was possible he couldn't see her new armor, but had only recognized her voice. Hence, he likely thought she was still in the phase-II armor, and thus not exactly protected.

"Kicking ass! What the fuck does it look like?!"

The fact that he used her name, not her call sign, caused her to pause for just a moment as unimportant thoughts and considerations were suppressed. Instead, she grabbed the first monster by the upper jaw and ripped it off, leaving the brain to slide from the remains of the skull like a sickly, gooey mass of deteriorated gel.

"I'm Iron Maiden, get it?" She grinned.

She heard Nicolai yell in panic as the first blade connected with her armored shoulder, leaving a dent to join the others already decorating her shoulder. It didn't matter much, as each shift of her body bent the metal anew, mending minor tears and dents subconsciously. Both to show off, and to make him calm down and shut up, she ripped the arm from the shoulder, used it to hack the other arm off before she looped the head from its place.

A kick sent it to the floor, where it was joined by another as Tequila hammered down with her free fist, pulping the zombie to a broken mass of fangs, bone fragments and rotten tissue. Even if the thing survived the hit, it wasn't going to move again.

Looking around for the last zombie, she found it, and the other way around, when it jumped on her back, trying to rip open her armor with its powerful arms. Tequila's murderous grin faded when she realized a flaw in her protection: She couldn't reach her back.

"Get the fuck off me, _Pendejo_!" She yelled and trashed around, each stomp producing a squashing sound as the floor was littered with organic parts. What violent joy she had found in the fight before, now vanished altogether when it became a deadly fight for survival.

"Get off me! Get off me! Get off me!"

If she couldn't reach behind her, the zombie would eventually be able to tear open her armor, and rip her apart from behind. This realization turned her frustration into outright panic. _Fuck! Shit! Fuck this is bad! ShitShitShit!_

A tearing sound, as well as a force that nearly knocked her on her face, alerted her to the fact that her armor had been ripped open. The creature had managed to get though her shell, and now her back was exposed to it, protected only by the armor of her Phase-II. Even if she could mend it, and by Mary did she try her hardest, there was no way she could do it in time. The fact that her armor had been ripped open meant another thing as well.

It was a new attacker on her back, which meant it had arms. Which meant it had blades._ Which means, I'm FUCKED! Fuck this shit, I'm not ending up like Jeanette! _

Glancing around in panic, Tequila found the nearest wall and threw herself back-first into it, hoping that her weight would be enough to turn the zombie on her back to a stain. The result wasn't exactly as satisfying as she had been going for.

Instead of crushing the undead monster on her back, she crushed its lower half, spreading its abdomen and everything below across her back as a disgusting smear.

It was still roaring and flailing its blades around, though luckily it seemed the impact had briefly stunned it, if one even _could_ stun a zombie. Reaching above her head, she tried luring it into slashing at her hands, thus allowing her to grab it and throw it off. If there was such a thing though, this was an intelligent zombie, as it chose to ignore her hands, and instead hack down at her back, leaving a large, incomprehensibly painful gash through her armor, skin and the outer muscle-tissue of her back.

Paralyzed with pain, she simply fell forward, her armor no longer responding to her thoughts. Hitting the ground hurt, and more than she had thought, but the pain in her back was still simply too overwhelming for her to even scream. Instead, she was left trying to breathe through her body entering shock. She could only listen halfheartedly as the monster stuck on her back raised its blades, growling and roaring as it eyed its prey, then swung both organic knives down simultaneously.

A hard clash of P-steel armor against bone and dead tissue came from just above her, followed by an enraged shout as she realized what had happened. Nicolai had tackled the zombie from her back. Even through the hazy dulling of her senses that the pain washing over her caused, she could make out sounds from the fight. She couldn't see what was going on, only hear blasts from a shotgun, roars from the creature and the sound of something heavy falling to the ground._ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck it hurts! Oh God, don't be dead Ten- Nicolai! I'll be dead too if you died for me! So don't fucking die, pendejo!_

The world started blurring out as something approached her, running with an unsteady gait. She could feel how each step was out of any kind of rhythm, driven by simple purpose, maybe desperation. At least the sound of boots on the ground meant it was a human.

Someone was shouting her name, and something cold touched her back, causing the pain to spike and her consciousness to slip.

* * *

When she woke up, there was the feeling of being stared at. She could sense it, even while she couldn't see, but... When she had blacked out, she had fallen flat on her face, her armor tipping over with the disappearance of her strength. Now though, she could feel something burning in her back, but at the same time, something soothing. She could also sense she was lying on her back, out of her shell. Why was she out of her shell?

"Shut it, Tengberg, she's coming to."

"This is all because I didn't-"

"I said shut it, or I'll shut you."

"If I'd just-" There was the sound of something hitting flesh and skin, and a male voice cried out in pain and shock, most likely from having been struck. As the world came back to her, Tequila tried remembering where she was, and more importantly, why she was there.

"I said shut up. There are more of them on the ship, and the last thing I want is a new zombie-rush."

Right, right… there had been the ship, the zombies… the one on her back, then the pain, falling on her face… Had they won, or were all dead and met in Heaven?

"Didn't have to fucking punch me, alright?"

"I _slapped_ you. Jesus, pull your shit together."

"Hillary, don't hit Tengberg. Tengberg, stop shouting." This time, she recognized the voice as the first woman, the first actual human she had met in this crazy fucking excuse for a functional universe. Her eyes struggling to open, Tequila managed to blink. At first, just once, then twice and then at last her eyes remained open.

"…Ow…why's my back on fire?"

"Oh Jesus Christ on the toilet! You nearly scared the piss out of me there, Tere…quila." Nicolai was the first she saw, kneeling next to her as he was, with his helmet off to reveal a burdened expression on his otherwise rather handsome face.

"Thought you'd died on us." Shepard said; "As for the back, Williams administered a large dose of Medigel to combat the bleeding, the shock, the pain and the infection. Any burns you might still feel… is just the infection being beaten back."

"Ow… still hurts." She muttered, the suddenly found that two pair of eyes staring at her belonged to the remaining security officers, Vincent and Pendleton. Both had unreadable expressions, though Tequila knew what they were thinking; "I suppose you want to know what just happened?"

"Alliance Special forces. It's highly classified." Jane cut off any answer either Vincent or her subordinate might have had. Tequila was about to call her on the bullshit, it being an obvious lie that they were anywhere near special forces, but a pointed look from the rest of the group made her hold her tongue.

"I don't really care if you even grew wings. Right now, these things are loose on the ship, and there's over a thousand people out there in danger." Vincent shot it down, a determined expression on her face. Jane nodded and pulled Tequila to her feet. Tequila, in return, bit the inside of her cheek to avoid yelping with pain as her back felt like it had caught fire.

"That could be a problem." Corporal Adrian Dwaine said. It was an agreement that no one called him Shepard, and only referred to him as Dwaine or Adrian. Most of the team, Tequila included, gave him a confused look.

"The fuck you mean? You saying we can't handle a bunch of these things?" Hillary demanded, stepping close to the corporal. Once more, Hillary demonstrated a somewhat issue with authorities, something Tequila would, if they survived this shit, talk to Williams about.

Still, they had to get out alive first.

"A bunch? Sure, we can handle a bunch. Hey Private, how many of us do you see here?" At his question, Hillary, and even Tequila made an idle count;

"Ten?" The private asked, clearly not knowing why Adrian even asked. The corporal nodded, and bent to the floor, picking up the head of one of the zombies;

"Well like this, we have here a former member of the Ishimura's crew. Therefore, we must assume he was turned. And if he was turned, it means whatever caused this has a means of turning people into monsters. And, there are a thousand potential candidates on this ship."

"Oh fuck me…" Thomas muttered. Adrian nodded;

"If it was up to me, I'd say evac the ship and nuke it from a distance… or just scuttle it. We happen to have a planet below us, and not even a Garden World, just a Mars-type chunk of rock." The corporal said, looking over his rifle; "Still, it isn't up to me."

"Damn right it's not. I don't give a fuck if it's 'Day of the Dead Five' here, I'm not running away from these fuckers." Hillary exclaimed, pumping her shotgun to press her point.

"Regardless of how many there are, we have two goals now. First, we have to contact the bridge. Since we've already tried that, with no luck, we're hoofing it there." Jane said, passing through the doorway. The piles of incapacitated undead were stacked where the barrier had held them at bay, and the smell was nauseating.

"And second?" Vincent asked as much as demanded, walking next to Jane with her gun kept at the ready, aimed at every nook and corner. Something that disturbed Tequila was more than it should, was the fact that the screaming had stopped. No more echoes through the hallways, as if signaling a far worse event to come.

"We still have crew trying to fix your comms. Roku might be able to protect himself against these things, but protecting both Hammond, Daniels and Clarke… I don't know."

"We can split up or stay together. Personally, I'd rather we stay together, but as a captain, you hold the highest rank here." Vincent said, sounding oddly defeated, yet still determined to make the monsters pay for every life they had taken.

"We stay together. If we split up, that's when shit starts _really_ hitting the air-conditioner." Jane ordered, and left it at that. Tequila looked at the backs of the others, walking in the rear where she'd be less vulnerable to attacks;

"Fuck, this place hit the fan before we even got here…" She muttered to herself. Still, she agreed with the officers.

Splitting up, in a place like this… _bad_ idea.

"You holding up?" She looked to the side, noticing the large guard, Pendleton, looking at her with concern in his eyes. He was scared, she could see that much.

"My back hurts like hell, feels like a bug spat on me, my armor was ripped open by a zombie and I had to be saved by my goofy colleague. Yeah, I'm great." She tried making it sound like the cheerful sort of sarcasm, but knew it came out muttered and frustrated.

"That's some crazy shit your team's sporting. I mean, that guy, he was on _fire_. Saved my life, so not that I'm complaining or anything, but… Damn." He exclaimed, keeping his gun ready for use. Tequila's eyes found Thomas' green-painted back, walking ahead along with Ashley and Tengberg, though the latter kept casting concerned looks back at her.

"Yeah… Damn's about right." She muttered.

* * *

**In the event that you do not know what exactly it looks like when Tequila is armored up, try taking a look at "Sokka, Suki and Toph: Airship Invasion: Full scene [HD] and go to 01:27. I have long been a fan of Avatar, hence why a lot of the spiritual stuff going on is heavily inspired by the show.**

**Well, please do leave a Review, or Tequila will give you an iron-clad, very tight hug.**


	10. Why's it always me?

**You know the drill, a new chapter means a new part of the game. I think we can rule this out of the horror-genre, considering Hillary is in it. I mean, the woman's damn near impossible to scare! Anyway...**

* * *

**...Why's it always me?**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Flight Deck, Tram station

12:47

So far, the team had advanced from the fight without further encounters. There seemed to be a sort of understanding, either with the ship or between the monsters, that fighting a large group of armed people was a bad idea.

The sounds had come back though.

They were not the sounds of people screaming anymore though. Thát had started and stopped in a mere fifteen minutes' period when Jane's team had arrived on the ship. Had she known what they would be walking into, she would have contacted Alliance Command to have them turn the ship, innocents and all, into debris. What she had seen so far, what she was constantly hearing through the walls, was hell itself in physical format.

Howls, like an elephant with its throat torn out, resonated through the corridors, coming from both above and below at the same time. There was a constant scratching in the walls, like something or someone was trying to get through. More than once, a vent-fan had been kicked from the wall, snapping the entire team around to point weapons at the hole.

There never seemed to be anything. Only ghosts in the dark.

"I hate this place…" Corporal Adrian muttered, adjusting his rifle to rest against his shoulder.

"Oh really? I kinda like it here." Hillary deadpanned, offering the corporal a flat look through her visor; "Just needs some paint and a few less dead guys running around."

"Shut it, Pennyloafer. My back still hurts, and I'm not in the mood for bullshitting."

"Sorry, _mum_. Great Metalbending by the way. Real Toph-ish." The private bit back, then seemed to think better of her words; "But really, cool armor."

"Can you all please just shut it?" Jane ordered, causing her people to shut up faster than a Volus' purse, if they even used those; "Now, Vincent. This is your ship. To get to the bridge, how'd you proceed from here?"

The chief of security glanced around, her eyes stopping at the apparent office on the other side of the rails. Through wide glass-panes, they could see what seemed like a security-station, complete with chairs, some still-running software and holographic displays.

"Our best bets would be to find a way into that security-station, get the trams sent here and use it to get to the bridge." Unfortunately, there always was a catch; "However, the activation-cards will likely be with the personnel supposed to man that place, but if we're lucky, the databoard should work just fine." Jane hated when people used the 'if we're lucky' phrase. That was when people always started dying around her.

"Let me guess… they're zombies too, and we need to kill them to get the cards?" Jane sighed, idly checking her shotgun's condition. She'd found that rifles weren't much good against the undead, and blowing them apart with her shotgun seemed much more cost-effective.

"I'm not ruling it out. Far as I know, the infection started from the flight deck around the time you guys arrived. I'm hoping people have somehow held out, but… Fuck, my ship's getting boarded by fucking space-zombies, and I can't do shit about it."

"Reminds me of just about every mission I've been on so far." Tequila muttered. Her Pulse Rifle was in her hands again, though her Katana was loaded, safety off and the gun was prepared to be drawn and fired within the blink of an eye.

"Alright…" Vincent muttered, pulling her Omnitool up. A 4D map of the immediate area, corridors and rooms was shown; "Well, at least the nav-systems are still up. Means the bridge is still active. Wanna bet they're getting comms up sometime soon?"

"Not really. Still, Hammond and Daniels have an N7 and an Aspect with them. They'll be fine, right?" their Service Chief asked, his voice betraying the fact that he was worried about his mentor. The two guards, Chen and Johnston, had stayed with the Kellion, so at least Jane knew where she had them.

"Aspect?" Vincent said, looking at the Chief. Thomas seemed to realize he had said too much, and promptly followed Jane's advice to shut up about matters related to "shut-up-it's-secret" stuff; "Never mind…"

"We can call the tram from over there, right?" Jane asked, glancing around the room. Vincent nodded; "Good. Then we go… this way" Jane said, pointing out a set of corridors they could follow to get to an elevator that would take them to the security-station. While it was tempting to simply attempt crossing the tracks, the small EOD-lights revealed they were active, which meant electrified.

Which also meant no jumping across.

"That'll take us almost all the way back to the lounge" Tequila said, her eyes going between the tracks and the map; "What if we made a bridge across instead?"

Her question caused Jane to glance at the corporal, then to the track, back to the corporal, and then to remember just what Tequila was capable of. Jane could have smacked herself for forgetting it, considering what the corporal had pulled earlier.

"Why are you still a corporal?" Jane asked. Tequila merely shrugged;

"Dunno. So, do we go across or the long way-that-will-get-us-killed?"

"Think you can do it?" Jane asked. There _was_ a good ten meters across the track. Tequila scoffed at her question, a gesture Jane would normally take offence at. _Normally_ though, dead people didn't attack living people, so that point was kinda moot.

Tequila grabbed the corner of the wall next to the tram. Her fingers clawed into the metal and pulled, ripping the metal from the wall like a piece of tapestry. Once more, Jane found herself awed by the powers of what Roku called "Chi", as the corporal ripped a section of the wall, bolts and all, and dropped it on the ground.

Adrian whistled, clearly impressed; "Fuck me… how'd you do thát?"

"Cartoony powers." Hillary said, seeing as Tequila remained silent. Jane was thankful that Vincent seemed to respect her wish not to reveal how they did it, as Admiral Fisher had declared it a classified subject, as well as plastered everything concerning it with enough red- and yellow tape to cover Arcturus' hull.

"It'll do." Jane said. Tequila nodded and carried the piece of the wall to the edge of the platform. She placed the metallic plank on the edge and let it drop, then kicked her end into the ground hard enough to fuse it with the platform. The other side scraped against the windows of the security-station, dragging long lines down the reinforced glass-panes; "Fisher, take point through the window and secure the room."

For once, Thomas didn't as much flinch at her command as growling at it. The reaction reminded her too much of his response to her order on Virmire, that he was to charge in alone. In hindsight, she knew it would still be the way of entry to cost them the least casualties, but on the other hand, it had resulted in him being incapacitated for the rest of the invasion.

"Right…don't die while I'm gone, okay?" He muttered, tapping a boot on the makeshift bridge to test its durability. To his obvious annoyance, and Jane's satisfaction, the metal held. Setting another foot on it, he was not fully on the bridge, with nothing between him and the electrified tram-rails but a thin walkway of warped metal.

"Just clear the room. Don't go beyond it." Jane reminded him as he stopped by the window. The Service Chief looked at her in clear annoyance, something she had gotten used to over the months, and bashed in the window with his bionic hand.

* * *

Thomas jumped onto the floor, fire already burning at the tips of his fingers. He wasn't going to be caught by more of those mutated fucks running around. Truth be told, he was still utterly terrified of them, of what they represented. Just like the human husks, he found the remnants of their former features, the noses, eyes and remaining strands of hair, to be far more freakish and horrifying than even the hulking abominations made from Krogans.

The room itself wasn't as big as he would expect the control for a shipwide tram system to be. There were three booths, with overturned chairs, and enough blood painting the floor to fill a bucket or two. Most of the blood went into a trail that ended in the broken vent-outlet on the wall, while a set of footprints revealed someone wearing boots had left the room through one of its two doors. And for some reason, bloody handprints were all over the vending-machine in the corner of the room, as if the last wish of a dying man had been to try his luck at the contraption.

"It's clear!"

He turned his attention towards the door in front of him, active and unlocked from what the panel suggested. There was something, a sound, coming from behind it. He could hear someone mumbling and crying. _Someone's alive!_

Wasting no time to wait for the others, and even though he was technically disobeying an order, Thomas slammed the panel and rushed through the door the moment it opened. He ended up in a short hallway, dimly lightened by a few more-or-less broken lamps in the ceiling. There was a long trail of blood on the floor, leading towards where the sound came from.

At the end of the hallway, a legless man was slumped on the floor, sobbing and heaving for his breath while clutching something Thomas couldn't make out in the distance. In front of the man, another of the creatures was sprawled on the ground, arms, legs and head lying around it like it had been sliced clean off its body.

"Talos…fuck…" He whispered as he ran to where the man was slumped, instantly kneeling down next to him after kicking aside the grotesque remains of the monster; "Hey, hey are you… fuck, not "okay" can you hear me?"

The man kept sobbing, pointing an obviously broken hand at something on the wall next to him. As he brought out what Medigel he had to spare, Thomas glanced at the man's point of attention. It was blood. Blood on the walls._ This just went to Fucktown of creepy. _

The blood on the wall was written letters. Large, scrawled letters made from blood. In the dark, it was hard to see what the letters said, though Thomas really didn't care right now. As he tried administering Medigel to the man, he saw what the letters had been written with.

The entire left hand of the man had been cut or ripped off, leaving him with a bloody stump that revealed a bit of bone sticking out as well. Despite his religious orientation, Thomas was unable to resist the curse;

"Jesus Christ…" He fought down the bile even as he dosed the man's bloody stumps with as much Medigel he could spare. The door he had come through hissed open, revealing Ashley's more than annoyed figure running through, rifle at the ready when she saw him, and uttered a similar curse;

"Jesus Christ, Thomas. Don't fucking run…" She trailed off as she saw him trying to treat the man. As Thomas focused his attention on her, he didn't notice the sobbing had stopped. When he looked back, the reason was evident.

The man had died.

"Fuck… I don't even…" Thomas growled, kicking the wall in frustration. A man had just died in his care, and he hadn't even realized it, wasting Medigel on a corpse; "I don't even care. Fuck this ship, what the fuck did we even come here for?"

"Apparently, Alliance Command just thought they needed a comms-array fixed." Ashley muttered, briefly eyeing the "dead" monster at their feet; "You can always complain about lack of info when we get back."

"Yeah…" he huffed, idly glancing at the still unreadable letters. Figuring they were the man's dying confession, he might as well pay his respects by reading them. The flashlight in his Omnitool revealed, that the letters weren't exactly a confession.

"_CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS!"_ was written in still liquid blood, with thin, red trails running from a few of the letters. The marines both stared at the writing on the wall, so to speak.

"Well… either he had a dying wish for revenge..." Thomas muttered, glancing between the dead man, the dead zombie and the letters. When his eyes found the dead man, he once more noticed something odd, lying in the man's lap.

"Or, he wanted to pass on a piece of advice. Now that I think of it, they did seem to go down rather quick when we shoot their arms and legs off…" Ashley seemed to reach an epiphany at the same time as him, only Thomas was more focused on the odd tool in the corpse's lap.

"I noticed… what's… Hey, Ash?"

"What is it?" She asked, turning to look at Thomas, who had picked up the tool. It weighed a bit more than his modded Carnifex, and looked like a sci-fi electric drill. There even was a trigger where he'd expect it on the thing. Being the person he was, Thomas aimed the tool at the wall, not wanting to accidentally shoot someone.

A blade of plasma appeared where he'd even have expected something like a projectile to exit. Instead, it was more like a chainsaw of azure plasma, held in place by some unseen force, magnetic field most likely. The entire thing whirred like a chainsaw would, but without the sound of metallic teeth. Both stared at the tool in more than a little shock;

"Okay…this is unexpected. Why would a security-guard have a lightsaber?" Thomas muttered. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but feel a little awe at the thing in his hands. It looked like some worn tool, but it was made of _fucking plasma_! Far as he knew, no one knew how to make plasma-weapons aside from the geth.

"A what? Never mind… I don't… actually know what thát is." Ashley sounded just as confused and amazed as he was; "Better take it back to the group, let Jane see it. Maybe Chief Vincent knows what it is."

Thomas nodded, unable to form something intelligent to word, and extinguished the tool, or was it a weapon? As they entered the security-station, Jane appeared in the middle of a conversation over a vid-link, Clarke's face showing up on the other end without his protective faceplate covering his visor. Vincent though, had seemingly given up getting through the static between her and the bridge, and turned to look as they entered;

"Where the hell did you go, Fisher?" She demanded. Thomas would normally be tempted to say that she wasn't his superior, but the situation had choked all humor from him.

"I heard someone cry. Found a dying man and… he died, but…" Instead of saying more, Thomas instead held up the weapon/tool he had found on the dead man, allowing Vincent to take it.

"Where'd you get this?" She asked, more curious than sharply, though a note of hesitation was also in her voice.

"On the dead guy. What is it?" Ashley said. Vincent answered by turning on the device, bathing the immediate surroundings in a blue hue. There were some muffled gasps and whispers from the Normandy-crew, but the two security-officers seemed completely familiar with the weapon or tool, Thomas still wasn't sure _what_ it was for.

"It's… a prototype mining-tool, the plasma saw, I think the miners called it." There was something about the way she said it, like she knew more but would say. Apparently, Thomas hadn't been the only one to pick up on this.

"Ehm, quick question, please." Adrian said, stepping closer to Vincent and the saw; "Just when did we get plasma-tech cheap enough to make chainsaws with the stuff? I mean, I've only seen it in big guns so far, not… the size of a handgun."

"We didn't." Jane said, taking the tool from Vincent; "Chief, where did the Ishimura get these saws?"

"Only the Captain and the log-officers know who supplies the ship. You'll have to ask them."

"Yet, you knew what this was?"

"It's a mining-tool. Most of the lower-deck crew have them issued."

"So low-deck hands get… you know what? I'll just ask the Captain when we find him." Jane stated, implying that something illegal was going on. Seeing how the dead were walking, Thomas couldn't care less if someone was robbing banks on the ship, he just wanted to get out alive. Jane though… he never really felt like he knew what she was going to do. Instead of continuing the interrogation, Jane turned to the computer dominating most of the tram-side wall; "Okay… Vincent, this thing works?"

"It's powered alright, and the activation-cards are in… but the data board is fried." The woman followed the last bit with a muttered curse; "I don't know about you, but fixing systems isn't my strongest suite."

"I bet Tali could have fixed this shit faster that you could say "Keelah"… Okay, ideas?" Jane said. As none came up, she contacted the other team. For some reason, inter-team comms seemed to work, while inter-ship comms were fucked and fried.

"Clarke, Daniels?" Jane called. On cue, Isaac's face, though now hidden behind his faceplate again, came up on the screen. Thomas didn't miss the scratches on the plate, like a claw-mark.

"Clarke here. We ran into more of the fucks, but I think we've figured out how to kill them now."

"Pray tell." Jane said

"It's the limbs. Dunno why, but if you shoot off their arms and legs, they die. You can waster a ton of time trying to shoot them in the body, but the limbs does the job." Thomas sighed. It had been one of the things he was going to tell Jane, but might as well come from the eccentric N7. Jane simply nodded, as if she had known this already;

"Good work. Clarke, do any of you know what to do about a fried databoard for the tram-system?"

"Databoard… Databoard… one of the crew hands nearby should have a spare. Look for a technician, that's your best bet." Clarke said. Thomas looked around on instinct, but naturally didn't find a technician. He'd have noticed an extra body when he entered the room the first time.

"Good. How's things going on your end?"

"We're in Medical, I think… took the long route when dead guys started popping out of the walls. These things really don't give a shit when you shoot them." The N7 said. Jane nodded, then held the saw in front of the screen, allowing Isaac to see it as well; "Well… I'll be damned."

"You know what this is?" Jane asked, sounding just as surprised as Clarke seemed. Thomas' eyes widened as the engineer nodded; "How?"

"Three years ago, prototype plasma-technology was stolen from Lockheed Martin Corporate Technologies. The plans were never found and Chinese agents were suspected of the crime… Seems like there's more going on here."

"Agreed. Let's rendezvous at the bridge, then we can contact the Alliance and chat up the Captain. Shepard out." Jane said, then cut the transmission and turned towards the others; "Well, you heard him. Find a technician, dead or alive, and get a spare databoard. Don't. get. separated. You hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." The entire team, Vincent and Pendleton included, answered. Far as Thomas was concerned, he wasn't ready to trust someone who apparently knew something shady was going on, but Vincent had every bit as much desire to survive, so he decided to screw the ethics of it and just follow orders.

"We've got two doors, two options. One group takes Aquila, the other takes Fisher. Alenko, you're in charge of Fisher's team, Boss, you take Tequila's. Make up your own teams, but do it quickly. Vincent. You, Pendleton and I will remain here to hold the room. In case of an emergency, be ready to move. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Another round of affirmatives. Thomas felt it was unnecessary and time-wasting, but didn't bother commenting on it. _Great, I'm a team-pick… and Kaidan's my boss. Guess it could be worse._

He almost smacked his own face at the thought. There really was little that could be worse than submerging into the corridors of a ship under attack by the undead. _It's the fucking Scourge of Lordaeron here, just waiting for Arthas to… Not thinking that through, not thinking that through._

Too many "impossible" things had already happened for Thomas to dare even think about Arthas suddenly turning up. Instead, he watched Kaidan as the Lieutenant picked out his team, then followed as they proceeded through the door at the end of the room.

Of course, Thomas was put in front, along with Kaidan who led them. The team consisted of him, Ashley and Hillary, while the rest went with Boss. Immediately behind the door, they came to a parting of the corridor, with no real guide as to what path to pick. Kaidan seemed to do a mental coin-toss, then gestured for the right. Thomas, meanwhile, looked left, and found a pair of sickly yellow eyes, staring at him from the darkness. When he shone his flashlight at it, nothing was there. _What…_

He could still feel the malicious eyes burning at the back of his skull when he turned to follow the team, but once more as he looked back, nothing was there. _I'm seeing shit… bloody eye is acting up… but fuck if this ship isn't scary._

"Stay together people. Remember, go for the limbs." Kaidan said, his voice the usual rock of calm. Thomas sometimes wondered just how the man did it, remained calm no matter what. He'd actually share the man's calm if they had taken the plasma saw with them, but noooo, Jane needed that for study while the teams were out getting their asses zombified.

They stopped at the first door they got to, Kaidan using hand-signals to make the team form up, then palmed the interface, pointing his shotgun at the door. The door hissed open, revealing a descending ramp leading forward as far as Thomas could see, as well as a human arm lying discarded on the ground. _How did this place go to hell so fast?_

Kaidan ordered them forward with hand signals, taking point down the ramp. Thomas was about to follow when the sound of running, scuttling feet came from above. Pointing his own shotgun upwards, Thomas was jumped in almost the same second as his finger touched the trigger. Hypersonic pellets flayed the dead body as it hit him, then fell off him and tumbled down the ramp. Acting on instinct, Thomas pumped shots at both the body and the vent it had fallen from, tearing the torso apart and embedding pellets in the metal above him.

"FUCK!" He shouted, kicking the dead man as if he had done him personal offence. In a way the dead guy had, since landing on people wasn't exactly polite. Thomas was fairly sure Scorch would have made a joke about this.

"Relax, Chief. It's just a normal dead guy. You know, no fangs and shit?" Hillary asked, grinning as she nudged the body out of the way with her boot.

"I fucking… I knew that. Just… this place is getting to me."

"Just stay calm and move. We work as a team, we get through this." Kaidan said, not having lost his calm despite the events just taking place.

"Good thing you didn't say 'everything's alright' or 'looks quiet for now'." Hillary muttered, her own rifle ready, as was the underslung shotgun.

"I've seen enough horrors to know what one-liners to avoid, private." Kaidan said with a thin smile in his voice. Thomas blinked at the casualness of the lieutenant, but shook his head and proceeded. There was a reason Kaidan had survived so far, as well as why he was a lieutenant. The man was a biotic powerhouse, and remained calm pretty much through everything the galaxy had tossed at him so far.

As they reached the end of the ramp, the team rounded a corner and came to a new door. There was no marking or text above it, so Kaidan followed the same procedure as earlier and opened the door. This time, he waved Thomas through first. _Fuck me… this is going to end inn tears, I know it._

The room they entered wasn't a room at all. It was the mile-long corridor beneath the trams, extending for hundreds of meters in each direction before corners made it impossible to see the end. Near the left side of the door, a barrier of some sort had been set up, making advancement in that direction troublesome. Kaidan led them right instead.

An unnatural howl echoed down the long corridor, causing the hairs on Thomas' back to stand straight, and his knees to shake just a little;

"Ho-ly crap." Hillary for once sounded worried. Her usual brash attitude replaced by obvious fright.

"That sounded big and definitely not friendly. I think we should move out of the broad and wide corridor." Thomas said, speeding past Kaidan until he came to a new door. This one was active alright, but seemed to hold a new challenge. Something in the mechanism was fried, causing it to open and close with the speed and power of a cleaver. Even Thomas was apprehensive about touching it.

"Can we shut this thing down?" He asked, looking at Kaidan. The lieutenant seemed to mull over their options, while Hillary and Ashley were studying a decapitated corpse by the door. The head was visible on the other side, giving a hint of what had killed the guy. While Ashley seemed disturbed by the cause of death, Hillary picked up something unusual from the wrist of the corpse.

Thomas noticed what she was doing, and eyed the gadget already in the process of being strapped to the wrist of the private. He had no idea what made Hillary's fingers practically stick to anything shiny. Far as he remembered, that hadn't been the case on Eden Prime. Then again, five days wasn't the world to get to know people.

"The fuck is this thing?" Hillary asked, waving the weird wrist-device around on her right hand. It looked most of all like a six-panes heat sink held by a small computing-device. Accidentally, the thing went off as she waved it towards the snapping door, resulting in both Kaidan and the door slowing down to an almost comical speed; "Okay… this is fucked up."

"Jesus! Kaidan, are you alright?" Ashley exclaimed, moving to touch the lieutenant. Thomas stopped her;

"Don't. We don't know what just happened, so don't touch him." Behind her visor, Ashley's eyes snapped between her team-members, close to panicking at Kaidan's condition. The lieutenant was saying something, but whatever Hillary just did had slowed him down to a degree where his words came out too slow to understand. Kaidan was their only biotic present, so he could only help himself.

"Kaidan. Thumb up if you can hear me." Thomas said, speaking as slowly as he could. The lieutenant slowly raised his hand and the thumb went up, though it was clear the action was tiring him out.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean… I didn't know…I _don't _know what I just…" Hillary started, reducing her voice to a more and more frustrated state as she started piling guilt at the gadget. While she shouldn't have just waved something around, Thomas agreed that no one could have foreseen the thing being some sort of biotic amplifier or something. _Just what the hell do they have on this ship? Plasma-weapons, biotic wrist-gadgets?_

Luckily, the effect wore off after a few frustrating seconds, leaving Kaidan momentarily stunned, but otherwise unharmed.

"What _is_ that thing?" He asked, the tone in his voice ordering her to hand over the device. For once, probably because she had just unwittingly _attacked_ a superior, Hillary respected authority and obeyed without hesitation. Kaidan gave the device a once-over, seemed to consider something, and then pointed it at the door.

As had happened when Hillary had triggered it, the device emitted a biotic surge of energy that wrapped the moving part of the door in a stasis-field, slowing it down for all of seven seconds, before it wore off again. Kaidan triggered the thing again, but this time received no reaction from it. Thomas stared at the scene. _Okay… I am seriously fucked up confused now._

"So… it's run out of juice?" Ashley suggested. Thomas glanced around, noticing a strange sort of device fastened to the wall just next to the door. _'Stasis recharge'_ was written on it with easy-to-read white letters. Kaidan seemed to notice it as well, and held the device, now on his wrist, over the small recharger. Nothing happened.

"Okay, I'm open to ideas." The lieutenant said, casting a glance around. Whatever had made the sound earlier was big, and they were frustratingly exposed as it was. They also still needed to find a databoard and get back. Seeing how Kaidan and the others were trying to figure out the recharger, Thomas pulled up his Omnitool and opened a connection to the captain, and by extension the only two people who knew what was what on the ship.

Jane's face appeared seconds later, her helmet decorated by a new, long scratch across the visor, though it hadn't cracked the glass.

"Fisher? Status."

"Captain, we've found… okay, we're directly beneath you, I think. We've come across a malfunctioning door. We're working on it, but we've found a sort of biotic module. Hillary just accidentally put Kaidan in a stasis for a few seconds… whatever's going on here, they've fucked science way more than even Anna could come up with." This seemed to make Jane contemplate her words, before she as much physically as verbally hauled Vincent to the screen.

"What've you found?" The Chief asked him. Thomas was starting to get the feeling that the woman knew a lot of things she hadn't told them. As long as it was limited to some messed up corporate secrets, Thomas really couldn't care less.

"A biotic module that non-biotics can use." Thomas said, as Kaidan finally managed to figure out the recharger for the device. Vincent scratched her upper lip for a moment before she seemed to come up with the answer.

"The stasis module, I think. Either that or the kinesi…what can it do?" Vincent corrected herself halfway through saying something else. Thomas frowned behind his helmet. While he didn't care for corporate secrets, if the Chief was holding back something that could help them, he'd be seriously pissed. Still, he answered her;

"It stops things from moving."

"Stasis then. It'll link with your armor, but without your own stasis-generators, you'll probably be spending some time at the rechargers." Yeah, no shit. It was clear Vincent wasn't surprised at the fact that biotic gadgets were laying around, even less so that they existed. As Thomas was trying to figure out if he actually outranked the woman, or the other way around, Kaidan froze the malfunctioning door, gesturing for them to move through in the seconds-long window.

"Moving up a ramp now… no sign of…" Thomas trailed off as a series of heavy, running sounds came from above. The team froze in place, weapons pointed at the ceiling as well as just about every opening big enough for a grown man to squeeze through.

Soon enough, the sounds faded into the distance, as if the team wasn't worth making a meal of. _Figures… they'd love to zerg-rush us when we're all together, but split up, it's suddenly 'oh noes, they haz guns'…_

"Okay, we should take one room at a time. I'll take point. Ashley, Hillary. Thomas, watch our six." Kaidan ordered them forward. That's when the lights died, flickering off with heavy, metallic claxons.

"Fuuuuuck… what now?" Thomas groaned, his left hand holding the shotgun while his right was already casting a green hue around him from the dancing flames in his hand.

"Stay calm. Just a system giving out." Ashley said, putting a hand on his shoulder; "Ships like these have back-up generators for every sections. Give it a few seconds."

"Afraid of the dark, Chief?" Hillary mocked, her rifle's flashlight illuminating a patch of the opposite corridor; "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Thomas wanted to punch her for tempting fate, but decided upon aiming his shotgun at where one of the vents had just been kicked out, the heavy metal breaking on the floor. His heart hammering in his throat, the night vision in his helmet didn't show anything but the broken vent.

"I fucking hate jumbscares." Thomas muttered as the lights came back on. Where there had been nothing before, not a human leg lay discarded beneath the broken vent, white bone protruding from the limb; "And I'm not afraid of the dark."

"Right."

"Form up, people." Kaidan brought them back into the mindset, and they entered the first door. Behind it was a much larger room, centered upon a mechanism with two mechanical, crane-like arms meant to somehow interact with a tram sitting on the tracks. The group stopped at the entrance.

"Spread out, check your corners and stay away from the vents."

"And shoot before asking. Got it." Hillary said, pulling the barrel for her shotgun. Thomas decided he needed one of those. As the team moved through the room, they received an incoming call from command, in this case Jane;

"Listen, there's more shit to the heap. The databoard isn't our only problem, we've also got a broken tram blocking the rails. There should be a tram-maintenance station somewhere on your side of the tracks, the broken tram should already be sitting ready for replacement there."

"You a psychic, Shepard? We just entered the repair-station." Hillary chuckled, then tapped the active console for one of the crane-arms. It slid out, grabbed a handle on the tram and pulled, but didn't do much else.

"Good. Call back when you've fixed the damn thing... Team two just called in… they've found the databoard. Shepard, out." Transmission ended, Kaidan looked at the rest of the team and shrugged;

"Well, that's one less burden. Let's see if we can't figure this out. Thomas, see if there's a console for the other arm." He gestured at the other side of the room. Thomas' lips pulled into a sour line as he marched for the connecting ramp;

"Why is it always me who must do the damned things?" He muttered. Hillary snorted with laughter;

"Because you're the one with the biggest tænder and the grimmest tøj." She pressed out through the inappropriate laughter. The entire team, Thomas included, stared at her in shock. He was the only one who really understood what she had said though.

"What… did you just say?" He really wasn't sure if he should suspect her of being a jumper as well, or be pleasantly surprised at her taste in television. The private just shrugged, giggling as she ripped open a locker and raided it for Medigel, of all things.

"Hey, I do have good taste in comedy. The classics always beat the modern crap anyway."

"'Grimmest toej'?" Kaidan asked, looking confused at the two youngest marines on the team. Thomas knew he really should be tensed up and scared shitless at the situation, but this was so surprising that he found his fears overwhelmed by shock.

"It's a Danish comedy show. Older than your grandparents… huh, didn't realize those guys were still popular." He sighed the last part as his fears started seeping back in, reminding him of the surrounding death and chaos.

As he reached the start of the descending ramp, Thomas instinctively jumped back as the vent across from him was kicked out, followed by one of the undead crewmembers. It roared, almost laughed and gurgled in bestial rage as it flexed its bladed arms and started running towards him.

Now that the room was illuminated, Thomas realized that it wasn't as much the fear of the creatures that had stunned him before. It was what they represented, what they had been. It was like the Reapers and their husks. Psychological warfare at its most basic, force the enemy to shoot at their friends. Was this the Reapers' doing?

He didn't as much hear the shouted warnings from behind him, as much as they were registered as voices in the background, part of the background noise. The charging monster took all his attention, but for once, Thomas wasn't cowering in fear. He saw the monster, and he saw the human it once was. He also saw that it was a disgusting abomination.

Then the monster saw his burning fist pummeling through its head, before Thomas' boot kicked it back down the ramp, followed by a shotgun-blast to each limb. As sudden as it had appeared, the undead was now just dead.

"I'm fine." He called back, to the obvious relief of his teammates who had been on their way up the ramp when he killed the undead crewmember. _These things really need a name aside from zombies and 'undead crewmembers'…_

"Good. You see a console over there?" Kaidan called as Thomas reached the other side of the room. Kaidan, meanwhile, had taken up a place at the controls for the entire machinery; "Looks like the second arm's malfunctioning. Hillary, watch for more hostiles, Ashley, take my place."

The lieutenant then stood next to Thomas as he tried for the second time to activate the malfunctioning arm. The arm itself wasn't malfunctioning, but the claw supposed to grab the broken tram clearly was. _Okay… fuck, how to solve this… like a fucking mini-game._

Kaidan solved the problem surprisingly easy. When the malfunctioning claw grabbed the tram, he hit it with a surge of the stasis-module. In the moment the claw slowed down, Kaidan signaled Ashley to activate both arms.

"Well… that's one way to do it." Thomas muttered. On the other end of the room, Hillary shot open a locker that signaled 'locked' with a small, official red light. Locks had never really bothered her, and a zombie-ship wasn't going to be the first time she stopped due to a locked locker (because wasn't thát just a delicious wordplay?). Inside the locker, a small, heavy clip of metal was the only reward. Still, it looked like something important, so she snatched it from the container.

Just then, the vent next to her blew open, and another of the undead fucks jumped out. It was on her before she even had a chance to aim her gun at it. Instead, she was forced to grab both its arms with her own hands, discarding her rifle over simple defense.

"Fuck! A little _help_ here?" She called, panic entering her voice. She knew they wouldn't be in time, as she was on the far side of the room from even Ashley, who just _had_ to prance over to check on her boyfriend. So (and she had gotten out of similar situations before, though not with the guy being undead) she slammed her helmeted head into the face of the attacker, stunning it enough for her to move her legs beneath it and kick it off her.

Even as bullets started biting into its back, the undead would-be rapist came at her with barred, (though now broken because fuck the thing) teeth and flailing claws. Hillary grabbed her rifle, pumped the shotgun before she blew the legs away under it. As it clawed towards her, the firing from the rest of the team stopped.

"You know… " She said, blowing one of its arms off. It still kept moving; "I've seen plenty of way scarier shit on the streets than you. Zombies? Bitch please, try pushers or drug-addicts." She grinned, then blew the remaining arm off. The zombie fell dead.

"Whooo! That just pounced out like fourth of July." She yelled, adrenaline riding her system. She then stomped its head in, spreading mush and decaying brain all over the floor; "And now it's dead."

She could see Thomas palm his helmet where he stood, and could hear him mumble something about her not taking things seriously. She grinned again, loving the reactions she could prod from her poor, unfortunate sap of a superior, (and she took things plenty seriously). He was just _too_ easy to provoke.

Kaidan tried to ignore the obvious conflict between the two, even Ashley tried calming Thomas down. Hillary sauntered towards him, her weapon at the ready as the lieutenant contacted Jane (because John was the one she would call Shepard. He'd been the one to save their asses on Eden Prime after Thomas had gotten them out of the colony) to tell her that the tram was fixed. Apparently, so was the computers for the tram, and no one had died in the meantime. Goody.

"Alrighty then. Race ya back to the control-room?" She asked, suppressing a giggle as Thomas slapped his own helmet again. Who was to decide that just because the ship was loose with the Evil Dead (badass movie, she'd seen it three times.) she couldn't have a bit of fun?

"How about we just focus on making it back in one piece, then we can always try racing each other to the tram?" Ashley said, a little annoyed with her. It had always been like that, and Hillary wouldn't have it any other way. 'Sides, her brother got to bitch around, taking the piss on people and complain about his bones. Sure, he didn't like her either, never even publically acknowledged her, but she was fine with that too. She'd had a fucked up life, sure, but then again, normal lives were boring.

As the team exited the room, they all bumped into Thomas, who was staring at the ceiling. Following his gaze, they saw something new, crawling on the other side of the ceilings transparent ducts. It was less human than the regular zombies, with something like a tail waggling around behind it.

"Oh God… is that its _spine_?" Ashley muttered. Thomas fired at the undead, only for his pellets to embed themselves in the transparent metal. The creature seemed to take offence though. It snarled at them, then jumped into one of the vents leading upwards, gone from view. Thomas, next to her, took his shotgun down;

"I… think we're dealing with more than just regular zombies here."

* * *

**Hillary's pov is sort of an experiment to me. Her mind, as a lot of you might have guessed, is a bit less... normal, than the rest of the crew. Hence she can often have some sort of inner monologue with herself. (And isn't thát just handy?)**

**Also, I am currently blessed by the fact that one of my readers ' ' is doing some fanart for the story. It'll likely replace the front for either Book 1 or this one, not sure yet. Probably this one though. **

**Well, that's it for this time. I'm off to co-write "into the Terminus" with tmroc now. I suggest you give the story a try, even if it seems a bit odd in the first chapter. Funny story, it's actually a side-story of sorts to this one :)**


	11. Captain on Deck

**Here's the next part. I'm following neither Downfall nor Dead Space 1, but instead merging the two together. I think this is going to be fun to write, so far it certainly has been ;)**

**There is a chance this Book will be solely the interlude between ME1 and ME2, but so far I am not sure. If that happens, I'll be changing the front-pic for the story. Anyway, enjoy some more Dead Effectiveness or something... I dunno, too tired to come up with anything better right now.**

**(And to point it out before I'm being asked/accused of it: No, I am not bashing Vincent. She is a badass woman, but would have issues with taking orders from a complete stranger, such as Jane.)**

* * *

**Captain on Deck**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Flight Deck, Tram system

13:32

There were a lot of things Thomas hated. He hated needles, the dark, monsters, dying and generally being subjected to attempted murder from all sides.

One thing he especially hated, was being the center for a biotic lift, regardless of how friendly it was. Biotics, he had found out, were the direct and utter opposite to his flammable powers, and seemed to wash through his fiery barriers back on Virmire.

His dislike carried over in near-panic, when he was lifted from the bottom of the corridor running beneath the tram-system. It had been Jane's idea to simply lift the team from the bottom and up, instead of going back the normal way. (Because apparently, "normal" was abnormal for the Normandy-team. Could they even still be called that?)

It hadn't helped that Hillary had taken the opportunity to not only enjoy being lifted biotically, but also make fun of his fear of heights. When he touched down, he scowled at the private.

"That does it." Hillary declared as she watched Kaidan land on the ground; "I call dibs on the biotic module-thing. Everyone else got powers or plasma-swords."

"Awfully snippy for a private, ain't she?" Pendleton muttered, though Thomas found himself close enough that he heard it. Raising a brow behind his helmet, he turned his head to glance at the big man.

"Maybe." Was all he bothered saying. He wasn't going to actively _defend_ the blasted woman, no way ever. He had enough to do with defending himself and the others, Ashley above the others, from zombies coming out of the vents like freaking xenomorphs. And he was still pissed that she teased him for being afraid of heights.

"Alright, people. Get on the tram already. We're picking up Clarke and his team in Medical, then we're headed for the bridge."

"We should try _saving_ the goddamn people still fighting for their lives here." Vincent argued heatedly, looking nowhere close to simply accepting Jane's orders to abandon the civilians still being slaughtered all over the ship.

"Mission-parameters have changed, Vincent." Jane stated as they boarded the tram. Her voice allowed for no room to argue; "We're getting to that bridge. Then we get a message out, get the Alliance to show up and blow this thing to hell, preferably while we're sitting in an escape-pod."

"I really hate this ship…" Adrian muttered again, slumped on the seats. His shotgun resting in his hands, cradled like a child, the corporal had taken up three seats in his apparent attempt to sleep. Thomas stared, not sure what to say about a man who could seemingly take a nap on a zombie-infested ship. Then again, the guy had been the sole survivor of a colony supposed to train the next generation of super-soldiers.

"Clarke, we're coming towards your platform. Status?" Jane called, opening a link to the N7. There was a moment of static, before something definitely inhuman howled. Then there was the sound of a weapon booming, flesh being torn and something heavy hitting the ground.

"You owe me one, Clarke." A woman said on the other end. Kendra Daniels, it seemed, knew how to handle a gun, to Thomas' surprise. Where had a techie learned that?

Jane waited for the engineer to pay attention before speaking;

"Clarke? Status?"

"Captain. Sorry, was a bit…preoccupied. Seems there's more to these fuckers than the whole Evil Dead syndrome…" Behind Jane, Hillary grunted in laughter, somehow finding something funny; "But we managed to find a store of sorts on this deck. Broke it open… well, it's close to the platform, you can see yourself when you get here."

"Anything interesting?" She asked, eying Vincent suspiciously out the corner of her eye, behind her helmet.

"Mmm, you could say that. Whoever's supplying this ship seems to owe the Alliance a few answers. Any losses on your end so far?"

"Nope. Anything new you can tell me about the Biotic modules we found?"

"Hmmm… afraid not. I've tried accessing databases, but we're completely shut off from the outside galaxy. Oddest thing though… looks like it's… but…" The man trailed off on the other end, causing Jane to worry something had happened; "Fuck, I hate it when things don't make sense."

"What's wrong?"

"Daniels and I had a look at the patterns… by the way, thanks for lending us that geth. Roku's been really helpful so far." Jane was momentarily taken aback at the change, but nodded regardless. The screeching of wheels told her that they were coming up on the station; "I hear the tram coming. Will talk in person. Clarke out."

Thomas joined Adrian, though he opted to simply slide to the floor instead of trying to fight the corporal over the seats. He was _very_ tired, and the mission, if it could even still be called that (seeing how it had more or less become a fight for survival) was heading towards a pile of shit. He _knew_ it was, just didn't know how or when or why. _But the zombies factor in somehow…and they really need a better name._

As the tram stopped, he expected the new passengers to step on. Instead, Jane left the tram, more or less non-verbally ordering the rest to stay the fuck put. Thomas obeyed the silent order, though he picked his shotgun back up and pointed it at the doorway, just to be safe.

Jane grimaced when she saw what Isaac's team had found. At first, it looked most of all like he had done a Black Friday and ransacked the first the best kiosk he could find. (She never really understood where all the stuff was stored in those things). As she stopped next to the group though, greeted by Roku with a polite nod, she took a moment to glance at what Clarke had found. Daniels was the first to talk though;

"Captain Shepard. I think this will interest you." There was something of a smirk on the woman's face, even despite the dried splatter of blood in her hair, the ponytail long-since dissolved into a mess of tangled brown and yellow. Jane followed the woman's suggestion, eyes locking on the contents of the emptied store.

"What am I looking at?" She asked, trying to figure out what the odd device in Kendra's hands was. It looked a lot like the plasma Saw, but had a much more slim build. As a response, Kendra pulled some control on it, unfolding the weapon, because a weapon was indeed it's description (was that even a real wording? Fuck it, she couldn't care less right now).

The weapon unfolded, sporting three visible laser-aided sights cutting through the relatively dusty air. There was no visible barrel as much as there seemed to be a single long opening in the weapon.

"Not entirely sure, actually." Kendra said, her voice hinting at the underlying message that she hadn't dared firing it yet. Jane sighed;

"Vincent." The order was spoken, but firm enough, and with enough authority, that shouting wouldn't have made much difference. The Chief of Security, and thus the only one among them to realistically have an idea of what they were handling, huffed with clear annoyance at being ordered around, but obeyed nonetheless.

"What is it, we're wasting time here." She was clearly both stressed out and annoyed, frustrated yet again that the Alliance soldiers not only assumed command from her, but also seemed to ignore the plight of the crew dying all over the ship. Jane was ignoring it though, but cold, hard facts stated that they were in no position to help people already endangered, only those who had managed to keep themselves safe.

'Safe' in this case, would most likely be the bridge, as even freighters had automated systems meant to protect the bridge from being breached. Turrets, even if they were small, could stall a sizeable force for longer than one would think. Then again, zombies didn't seem to care about running into gunfire. _Man… this is getting shittier by the minute._

"This. This is 'what'. What is it?" Jane said, handing Vincent the weapon. The woman seemed actually more surprised than anything else at that, which made Jane wonder if the Chief had any idea at all what the thing was. The response was _exactly_ that, though.

"What's one of these doing up here…" Vincent muttered, testing the thing's sights; "I don't get it."

Jane snapped her fingers to the Chief, a hard thing to do in armor.

"Well?"

"It's a 211-V Plasma Cutter… It's a mining tool, why's it in Medical?"

"This keeps getting weirder and weirder. Alright, we can check the rest in the tram. Clarke, Hammond, bring what you can carry. We're moving." Jane said, dragging a hand down the side of her helmet. She gently, but firmly, took the plasma cutter (and wasn't that just fantastic? Another example of fucked up technology on a mining-vessel of all places) back from Vincent. She really, honestly, had no idea what was going on, but figured she could trust the Chief until the dangers had passed.

Hammond and Clarke picked up what the engineer had managed to haul from the automated shop before the damned thing sealed itself up, then entered the waiting tram as the last two. When all had entered, the attention of the crew was turned to the newly acquired stuff. Jane called it "stuff" because some of it looked nothing like a regular weapon (and was that a fucking industrial _saw_?). It was. There was a tool or weapon or something, that had a giant, industrial saw blade that could be mounted on a person's arm.

As if she had been reading Jane's thoughts, Hillary jumped to;

"So much dibs on the chainsaw!"

"You already said that with the plasma saw…" Nicolai muttered, having apparently been eying the weapon himself. Jane suspected most of the crew was indeed paying rapt attention as she had Vincent go over what little Clarke had managed to force from the damn kiosk.

"Who the fuck puts a flamethrower in a kiosk in a hospital on a ship?" Thomas asked, hefting the hydrazine torch with a questioning look that shone through his helmet.

"Maybe they needed it to exterminate extreme cases of crabs?" Hillary asked, causing Nicolai to erupt into a coughing fit; "What? These ships are out for months. Bound to be a whole lot of banging going on to pass the time."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Nicolai asked, visibly glaring annoyed at Hillary. The private grinned audibly;

"When a man and a woman feel like it, they take off-"

"Private, could you please stop unnerving our heavy-weapons user?" Tequila muttered, glairing at the younger woman from behind her visor. No way in hell the woman was taking it off, Jane knew thát much. Considering the fact that Tequila's group had been jumped by something straight out of "The Thing", that had tried giving the Hispanic corporal a more-than-close kiss, she understood the woman perfectly well.

"Sorry, sorry…" Though she didn't sound like she was particularly sorry at all. Jane repressed a groan, turning back to Vincent's explanation. At least the chief had paused while Jane had been paying attention to her (more or less juvenile and occasionally idiotic) crew.

"The Ripper…Not the real name, of course, but the guys in refining called it that." Vincent tried giving off a casual shrug, though the constant stress she had been under for more than twenty-four hours made the gesture pretty much a fail.

"I still seriously call dibs on it." Hillary stated in the background. Jane ignored her, in favor of focusing on Vincent.

"It's a close-combat weapon?" Jane asked. Vincent gave her a flat stare, visible thanks to her lack of helmet.

"It's a stone-carving tool." She deadpanned. Jane frowned. Why was it that whenever they found "tools" on this ship, said "tools" tended to be made with manslaughter as a second purpose?

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either." Vincent said, pointing the tool at the side of them where no one sat. She activated something on the tool. Jane expected the blade to spin in place.

She didn't expect that it would fly from the tool, then spin in the air just in front of it.

There was a small thud as more than one jaw hit the bottoms of their helmets, Jane's included. The bloody saw blade was hovering (fucking hovering without a sign of Eezo being used!) before Vincent, who then deactivated the tool, causing the blade to fall to the ground before picking it back up, reinserting it into the tool.

"It… is… the PERFECT ZOMBIE-KILLER." Hillary almost shouted (Scratch that, she did shout. Jane's grimace attested to it); "Gimme Gimme Gimme!"

Pendleton, the largest of them all, had been silent up until now, though his expression spoke of deep confusion and disbelief;

"Are you _sure_ you're the Normandy-crew? The guys who brought down Saren?" He asked in disbelief, staring at each of them; "You seem fucking weird half the time..."

Jane didn't bother shooting the man down (verbally, of course). It simply wasn't worth it, and anyway, the man had a point. The crew, Hillary in particular, was acting more and more unprofessionally.

"We're the ones and onliez." Hillary said, managing to snatch the "Ripper" as it was aptly named, just before Adrian got to it. The man scowled beneath his helmet, but said no more as he returned to his seats. Hillary, meanwhile, cackled lightly as she brandished her new tool; "This is going to _rock_."

"Yeah well, we're almost at the last deck. Be ready, and for Christ's sake, Corporal Dwaine, get your ass up from that seat. We're on a mission here, in case you forgot that." Jane snapped, causing the corporal to flinch, though the pace with which he sat was nowhere near military efficiency.

"Not at all, Captain."

"Okay. Vincent, ETA?"

"A minute, if nothing gets in t-" The chief started. Jane interrupted her with a hand slapped down on her mouth, to the obvious frustration, annoyance and anger of the woman in question. Jane glared at her like she had killed her best friend (impossible, really, considering a thug had taken care of that once, and Saren the other time, then some sort of bug-race called the Collectors had finished the job, and the final candidate was on the tram, perfectly alive).

"Don't. _Ever_. Use 'if's and 'as long's around us." She had had far, far too much unnatural and impossible shit happen when someone stated those fatefully moronic words. Considering where they were, she wasn't going to risk it. Vincent nodded furiously, anger and irritation burning in her eyes;

"What the fuck was that for?" She exclaimed, slapping away Jane's hand; "I'm not buying the 'if's shit. What the hell is your problem?"

"Oh believe me, those 'if's are definitely an issue around us." Thomas chuckled, though it was more of a strained attempt to lighten the mood. He didn't really _like_ Vincent, but she seemed like the type of person who would give hell in rules to do what was right. _Just like Garrus…_

While the memory of his Turian friend caused a spike of pain, Thomas swallowed and focused his attention on his surroundings. Nicolai and Tequila were in the process of checking over their heavy weapons, while Adrian was sitting, now at least just taking up a single seat. Hillary was cradling her new toy, a weapon defying logic by all accounts, while Clarke seemed to be taking an interest in the ranged version of the plasma saw, the 'plasma cutter'. (Honestly, couldn't they have been more creative with naming?) Hammond and Kendra were discussing something in low voices, and he frankly didn't care what anyway.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Last stop, Bridge, Underwear and hopefully less undead bad guys." Hillary called, giving the Ripper a test spin without activating it. Thomas shuddered slightly at the combination of Hillary and a hover-chainsaw. There was just no way that was a good idea, and he suspected her mentality had somehow deteriorated since being brought out of the hospital. _Then again… she was a bit nutty on Eden Prime too. I missed something, didn't I?_

Surprisingly, or rather the opposite, the platform they arrived at was exactly like the other two in design, with the only difference being it lacked the signs of bustling traffic. It was clean, more or less, and held a small room with glass walls, complete with seats, a screen and everything. _Well, shit… looks like a bus stop._

"Form up. Vincent, point with me. Everyone else, keep your guard up. If it isn't human, shoot." Jane ordered. Thomas found a strange sense of relief in having someone in charge who wasn't panicking over the dead rising. True, he despised her when she ordered him on regular suicide-runs, but Jane never seemed to actually overestimate anyone's abilities.

As they stacked up on the door leading off the platform, Thomas sighed when he saw Hillary once more prying open one of the lockers hanging on the wall. Pendleton noticed it too, and grabbed her wrist as she was breaking open the container;

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Hillary actually seemed honestly confused at what he was angry about. The lack of helmet allowed those paying any attention, top see a vein pumping in the man's temple.

"Are you fucking _stealing_ from us now?"

"Hey, it's called… I don't know, but it's not stealing considering your trash-shit systems cost us our fucking frigate. It's compensation, just so you know." She growled, waving what she _had_ already taken, a container with three saw blades, (Why there were industrial saw blades on the bridge, Thomas had no idea) in front of the large guard.

"Put those back, Private." Jane said, her voice commanding despite the fact she wasn't even _looking_ at Hillary.

"What? Come the fuck-… _Fine…_" She groaned, slamming the saw blades back into the locker, then shut it with enough force to make door fall off its hinges; "Not my fault."

Thomas resisted a groan as Jane palmed the interface for the door, opening it with a gentle, _functional_ whoosh. Something that worked, Talos be praised and all that. (Honestly it was a miracle something legal worked on this damned ship)

The bridge seemed to be connected to the platform by a broad corridor, with a security-station on the left. The left side was plated with polarized glass, meaning there was probably someone glaring daggers at them from the other side. Not that Thomas really cared. If he could handle zombies, he could handle guards. Vincent, walking next to Jane, seemed to wave whomever was behind the glass, down with a commanding gesture. _Is she the commanding officer of the entire ship's security?_

"Well shit, another kiosk. Can we raid this one too?" Hillary exclaimed, bounding ahead for the shop or kiosk or whatever the hell it was called (The sign above it said "Store", but Thomas knew what a Store looked like. This wasn't a store.), and started trying to interact with it; "Shit won't work."

"You need an authorized RIG to use the stores on the ship, and fucking _stop trying to steal from us!_" Pendleton snapped, causing the private to turn a mocking gesture at him. (It was concealed behind her helmet, so really, what was the point?)

"Private, act like you're actually on a mission." Jane snapped, causing Hillary to cast one last glance at the "store" before following suit as Vincent stopped at the door to the "Main Atrium", the sign above the door read; "That means act professionally."

"I get it; no foraging." The youngest woman on the team deadpanned. Thomas pressed his eyes shut, repressing the urge to insult the private. It was really, really hard not to. Because she totally deserved being served back. He was relieved when the double-doors opened, revealing the bridge in all its… wideness, to the crew. _Well fuck me… really puts the CIC to shame._

The bridge, or atrium, was easily wider than the top-deck of the Normandy had been long, maybe even half the entire Normandy could have fitted in the room. All along the sides of the atrium (he might as well call it what the crew called it), people were seated or standing by holographic displays, all of them glancing nervously at the arrivals as they were noticed. _Well… this is awkward._

At the center of the massive room (and it was really freaking massive), an elevator acted like connection to levels below and above, while it also seemed to act as a support. Right next to it was a sort of raised plateau. And on that plateau was a man in a very official-looking navy uniform, white hair and beard, and an expression that could have scared off Freddy Krueger. _Why don't we just point thát guy at the zombies? They'll run the fuck away for sure._

"Boy, does he look pissed." Hillary mused from next to him, prompting Tequila to slap the back of the private's helmet, and Ashley to sigh in exasperation. Thomas touched her hand, offering what compensation for the constant madness he could. Her own fingers curled up, gently gripping his for just a moment. _Yep, that's pretty much our relationship. Constant near-death situations, madness and impossible enemies trying to kill us with big guns._

"Vincent! What the _Hell_ is going on?!" The man certainly had a voice to match his expression, that much was now confirmed. Even though it wasn't directed at him, Thomas still winced at the man's tone.

"Sir, we're under attack from something that's taking over the crew. Pendleton and I are all that's left of the Flight Deck's teams, and we haven't seen anyone else."

"Goddammit. We're losing engines, and crewmembers are dying by the dozen every second! Get to engineering and find out what the hell happened to the engines. We don't get those thrusters back online, our cargo will drag us back towards the planet!" The man shouted, completely ignoring the Kellion's crew.

"Sir, with all due respect, these things, these… undead, they don't give a shit if we shoot them." Vincent argued. Thomas didn't blame her. _He_ didn't have much reason to personally fear the undead, but everyone else relied on weapons that seemed more or less ineffective.

"Then come up with something! You already let these_ strangers_ onto the ship, I'm sure you can use them to get to the engines." The man was acting like someone was making fun of him, his temper rising with almost each syllable. Of course, it could be the stress from his ship being under attack. Apparently, Jane took this as a good time to step in. The Captain furrowed his brow and glared at her; "And who the hell are you?"

"Captain Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy. Benjamin Mathius, before _any_ of us do _anything_, you need to explain just how the hell this shit started." She demanded, though her voice hadn't reached the 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-with-my-voice' level yet.

"Who gave you authority to make demands of me?" The man sneered, obviously certain that Jane couldn't overrule him on his own ship. Thomas couldn't see her face, but the confident smirk was clear in Jane's voice.

"Alliance Admiral, Anna Cologne Fisher. Now please, answer me." Thomas was taken completely aback at this. What did Jane mean by that? Why had Anna given her permission to boss around the captain of a vessel they were just supposed to repair? _What the hell is going on here?_

The man blanched, then seemed to pop a gasket.

"We retrieved a load of minerals from Aegis Seven. This is a mining-vessel, and my crew is getting slaughtered while _you_ stand here, interrogating me." He snarled. Jane, while obviously set in her ways and stubborn as usual, seemed to see some sense in the man's words.

"True. Kaidan, Clarke, take the team to engineering. If it gets too hot, don't risk your lives. Daniels, you are staying here with me." She ordered, then turned. Thomas stared, blinking in surprise at the turn of events. _Why the hell is she always staying back? She's the strongest biotic we know aside from Liara. I really hate this ship._

* * *

Jane watched the teams return through the main door, then turned back towards Mathius, while Kendra remained at the base of the plateau. Jane, now free of her crew, people she trusted and cared about, let the hammer drop.

"Captain Benjamin Mathius, by Directive 4, §12 of quarantined systems, you are hereby ordered to step down from acting command, and reveal everything about your original purpose by going to Aegis Seven, as well as the true nature of your cargo and contents of ship." Jane allowed herself a harsh smirk at the man's sputtering.

"Wha- You have no right- You can't do that! I know why you are here." The man's voice and expression suddenly became a notch creepier; "Oh yes, I know why you are here."

"Humor me." Jane said flatly, not backing away. The Admiral had briefed her on the risk that religious fanatics had infiltrated the chain of command on certain ships, the Ishimura being one of them. Sadly, it seemed the old sociopath had been right. _Well fuck… _

"The Alliance sent you to silence us! We found a Marker, and you're going to try and make it so nobody ever knows." The man argued, pointing a remarkably muscular finger at her visor. _If he pokes me, I break the fucking thing off…_

The man's apparent luck had that he didn't poke her. He still pointed at her though, not done with his accusations. Keeping most of her attention on the man, Jane called up his information on her HUD, betraying none of it with a reaction.

"_Benjamin Mathius, Industrial Captain, Planet-Cracker-class clearance. Born: 2129 -?. Known associate and member of the Church of Uniotology. Considered potential mole in Alliance structure. Honorably discharged from Alliance Space Vessel 'Remington' in 2176. Became Captain of the MSV Ishimura 2177."_ Allthewhile, Jane had paid attention to what was "uttered" at her, but said nothing herself.

"You want to interfere with our mission. These creatures, they are just a test of our faith, nothing more. The Marker must be delivered."

"So, you _do_ have a Marker." Jane said. It was a statement far more than an accusation or a question, and it seemed to stop Mathius' ranting's. Jane didn't stop though; "Furthermore, you'll need to tell me where you gained access to weaponry stolen from Alliance suppliers."

"I need do nothing! When Convergence comes upon us, you'll be left to rot while-" Jane cut the man off, grabbing him by the throat before she slammed him, back first, into the side of the elevator-column. All around her, people went silent with obvious fright.

"Security!" Mathius managed to cough. It seemed to have been enough though, as five hardsuit-clad officers came running from the room next to the entrance (the security-room, obviously), armed with handguns similar to what Vincent and Pendleton had. With her left hand holding the captain in an iron grip, her right hand whipped out, energy glowing around her form as she hit the guards with a singularity. The effect was that the men were lifted into the air, then dropped, looking up, only to see Kendra aiming a handgun in their general direction. Jane huffed before turning back to Mathius. _Can't believe I'm doing this shit. At least Daniels followed suit._

* * *

When she had been called in for the briefing with Admiral Fisher, Jane hadn't been completely aware of what she could expect. The woman was the younger (though older) sister of Thomas Fisher, and rumors told of her more than insane exploits over the years. Still, she was the last person to ever fall to any sort of corruption. Jane suspected it was simply because she wasn't able to register the temptation in it.

She had found the Admiral seated with a cup of tea, conversing with another officer. At her entrance, the Admiral dismissed the man, a colonel with short-cropped dark hair, and turned her full attention towards Jane;

"Sit… or stand, I don't really care." Jane opted to stand. Anna, and she might as well think of the Admiral in first-name basis, sighed and drained her cup; "Here's the situation. About five hours ago, we intercepted a transmission from certain… elements in Sol, contacting the Planet-Cracker _MSV Ishimura_. The transmission contained orders for the ship to make for the Cygnus-system. A system that, rather funny enough, is restricted on the same level as Pandora. No one is allowed to go there. And yet, it seems that not only has someone done so, but the jackasses even set up a colony without the Alliance knowing about it. As you can guess, this isn't exactly what makes the Parliament stand in ovation. So, rather than risk the public finding out that we've bummed it, we're doing this like a black-ops. There's a small frigate, the SSV Kellion, waiting in the hangar. One of the passengers will be ASO Kendra Daniels. Far as anyone know, she's coming along with N7 Isaac Clarke to fix the ship's communications relay."

"We jammed their comms?" Jane asked, raising a brow. Fisher shook her head with a sad smile;

"No, afraid not. They seem to have fucked something up mere hours after they arrived at the planet, Aegis Seven. We don't know exactly _what_ they came there to do, but Intelligence suspects the sender of the transmission was affiliated with the Church of Uniotology. You familiar with those?" The older woman asked, flipping a bullpen between her fingers.

"Only heard mentions."

"Well, they are some sort of sect, a rather big one actually. They believe that Michael Altman, poor sod that was found dead some fifty years ago, was killed by the Alliance Parliament or EarthGov, to cover something up. EarthGov, as you might have guessed, doesn't exist anymore, so they blame the Alliance fully."

"I still don't follow, ma'am."

"Right, keep forgetting you made the same deal Thomas did… Okay, if our suspicions are correct, the Ishimura is more or less being controlled by the Church, which means, their reason to be in a restricted area must be something connected to the Church."

"What would that be?"

"Tell me, do you know what was found in the Chixculub-crater, some fifty years back?" The admiral asked, seemingly more interested in her pen than the Alliance captain in front of her.

* * *

"Listen to me, you fanatic piece of shit." She sneered in a low voice, her polarized visor allowing the man's eyes to find only blackness as she glared at him. The fact that she was in a Bulwark-suit meant that she could snap the man's neck, arm or anything else like rotten twig; "You are in _way_ over your head. Whatever's happening on this fucked up ship is connected to the Marker. Your so-called "holy relic" is a piece of fucked up Reaper-tech."

"HERETIC!" The man screamed in her face. Jane poked him in the chest, her armor causing the "poke" to be delivered with the force of a regular punch. _God, why the hell is it always fanatics? First Saren, now this guy_; "The Marker is divine! We will be carried into our new lives when Convergence is upon us, and-"

Jane clasped her armored hand over his mouth, shutting off all sounds from the struggling man. She looked around at the rest of the atrium, taking in the scared, frightened, nervous and curious faces of the crew.

"Alright, who's second in command on this floating graveyard?"

A man, most of his red hair receded to the back of his head, hesitantly stepped forward. Jane, while still holding the captain by his mouth, examined the man. Trying to gauge him.

"Dereck White, I'm the First Officer." He said in a calm tone. Jane sized him up._ Well… he doesn't seem ready to proclaim religious persecution just yet._

"Well, you're the captain now. Mathius will be placed under arrest for trespassing in restricted space, and will stand trial when we return to Alliance Space." She pointedly used "when", not "if". It was important to keep civilians in as blissful a mindset as possible, for as long as possible.

"The ship is being overrun. More than seventy percent of the crew has flat-lined." White said, his voice and expression closer to outright fear than anything else. He _knew_ that they were fucked unless something happened.

"Can the rest of the crew reach the escape-pods?" She asked, trying to imagine how many hundreds of those zombies would be roaming the halls by now. _Fuck… I hope Kaidan can hold out._

"I don't _know_. We can't make any contact anywhere on the ship at all." White exclaimed, his brows furrowed in frustration. Jane grit her teeth, but refrained from answering. A reason to this was that an alarm was going off at multiple consoles. Letting go of the struggling captain, Jane rushed to the nearest flaring console.

"Oh fuck me…" Kendra muttered from next to her. Jane hadn't even seen her move, but was far more focused on the display in front of her.

Escape-shuttles were launching.

Zero life-signs.

* * *

**Yeah...Uniotologists really got something wrong. Michael Altman was apparently immune to indoctrination, so the "Marker" made the others kill him. Who'd have seen thát coming?**

**On a second note: Writing Hillary's comments is the only thing beating writing Anna's, in my eyes. (Apparently I have a thing for more or less psychotic women... bugger)**


	12. Temple

**Yet another chapter. **

**For a change, this one doesn't happen from the viewpoint of neither Jane nor Thomas, our otherwise established centers of focus. I'm thinking each chapter covers roughly 1/3 of each in-game chapter, to offer perspective. **

**Also, you guys watched the latest "Game of Thrones"? Won't spoil, but daaaaaaaaaaaamn, brutal.**

* * *

**Temple**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Engineering Deck, tram-station

14:11

"Engineering, everyone off to make room for new passengers, and beware of pick-pockets." Hillary grinned, hoisting her new toy on in her right arm, while her rifle was held in the left. She was seriously contemplating simply putting it on her back, but until she'd seen the effectiveness of her new zombie-killer, she'd rather be safe. She was gleeful, not moronic, contrary to what some people seemed to think ('Some people' being the men of the group, oddly enough.)

Engineering was a bit less bright than the bridge, multiple lights here flickering on and off. There was a bit of blood on the floor, still wet enough to make it slippery when walking on the surface. Before anyone managed to speak, Kaidan's Omnitool chimed. Hillary liked the guy, and hadn't even wanted to prank him, despite sufficient openings for a joke, such as his butt-chin.

"_Alenko? Listen up, we've got a problem._" Jane's voice came over the channel. Hillary groaned, but it was Thomas who spoke first, though not to Jane;

"Not _another_ one?" He sounded just as deflated as Jane, though her tone held a bit of "I'm pissed off" as well. Figures, redheads always seemed the aggressive type.

"What is it, Captain?" Kaidan asked, apparently completely calm. Well good for him, that meant she could be allowed to groan in annoyance as much as she wanted to. And she did. Because problems were annoying. Especially on a Zombie-ship.

"_Every single escape-pod just launched, with no one onboard._"

"Well… that sucks." Hillary muttered. It sucked for the poor bastards still alive around the ship, and it sucked for themselves too, if they couldn't fit everyone on the Kellion. What if someone had stolen the damn thing while they were gone? Chen and Johnston seemed like twitchy-itchy types. Hillary would bet they were going to turn tail when the first zombie crawled out of a duct.

"_There's more._" Jane said. Leaning forward, Hillary could see that other woman, Kendra, standing next to the Captain, armed with a handgun._ Since when… oh right, she said something about Clarke owing her. Must've had a gun then too. Figures._

"Isn't there always?" Kaidan asked, sounding a little annoyed. (A little being far less than what Hillary was, but she wasn't going to comment on that.) The lieutenant seemed to mull things over as Jane looked off-screen for something, then back;

"_Eighty-seven percent of the crew has flat-lined. If what we fear is correct, then you're looking at nearly a thousand of those things running around on the ship._"

"Well that's just great…" Hillary muttered, then actually processed what Jane had just said; "A what? A thousa-… This is how I die…"

"Told you, we're fucked." Adrian muttered from next to her, a smug tone to his voice. Great, now there was someone making fun of _her_.

"_Nobody'_s fucked, if we just focus and keep an eye out. These things like to use the vents to sneak up, so keep an eye on whatever openings you see in walls, floors or ceilings." Vincent snapped, glaring at the two complaining marines.

As the team went through the first door they found, a narrow corridor, not broad enough for two men to walk side-by-side, turned and led them into a new room. The room itself was fairly large, about the same size as the tram-station. It was dimly illuminated, but appeared relatively safe.

At the center, a corpse was slumped in the chair meant for keeping track of passing traffic on the other side or shatterproof glass. The corpse was dressed in the same type of hardsuit worn by Vincent and Pendleton, only a darker color, as well as a mask-like helmet covering the dead man's face, but leaving ears and hair free.

"Great… more dead guys." Hillary muttered, stepping closer to the corpse. This one really seemed to be nothing but a normal, good old fashioned, dead body. There were no extra arms, no fangs, no intestines hanging from gaping hole in the stomach (although he really reeked like he'd been dead for a month already), and no evil eyes trying to glare at her from the darkness; "But, at least it's a regular dead guy."

"If they killed him, why didn't he turn?" Kaidan wondered aloud. Hillary glanced at the lieutenant for a moment, then back at the dead guard. She noticed something lying at his feet, a datapad, of all things._ Guy was reading when the walking dead jumped him? Poor bastard._

"_Personal Log, Acting Chief Engineer Jacob Temple. It's been two days since they pulled that planet open… since all those things on the colony started. The panic, the riots… They were nothing compared to what came after. Our friends, our co-workers, started coming back…Changed…Coming back to kill us, to drag us away. Rucker disappeared this morning, and I have to assume he's dead. My crew, they're starting to crack. I'm trying to keep an eye on them, but right now… fuck, we've got bigger problems. We're hemorrhaging fuel, and now the primary engine is laboring. Danvers and I are going to reach the fuel depot to try and fix it. Temple out."_

The room was silent for a moment as the audio ended, leaving more than one pair of eyes to glance at the dead body slumped in the chair. Hillary wasn't sure if a sigh of relief or a snort of annoyance would be fitting here. Okay, so the dead guy apparently wasn't this "Temple" person, since he and someone named Danvers was trying to reach the fuel depot (props the same place she'd be heading before long to fix this shit), so at least there might be someone else alive around. On the other side…she'd felt sorry for a guy she thought was someone else. _Great, lets all just confuse dead guys now, shall we?_

"If they're at the fuel depot, they won't be far from… wait, the man mentioned the colony. This is at least two days old, but…" Kaidan muttered, then turned to Vincent as she was trying to ascertain the identity of the dead guard; "Vincent, just how long has it been since the planet-crack took place?"

"About… two and a half days. But this guy looks like he'd been dead for at least a whole day." Hillary leaned in again, noticing what the Chief meant. More than a few places, the bare skin was bloated, a clear sign of necrosis and post-mortem decomposing. She wasn't very tempted at all to peek under the guy's mask.

"That long? How long ago did crew start dying?" She asked, looking up from the dead guy. Vincent furrowed her brow, as if she was considering something important.

"First confirmed death was… Nurse Higgins, I think. One of the patients from the colony, Harris, killed her before he was restrained. Doctor Mercer wanted to examine him for… shit, I don't know." The chief shook her head.

"Regardless, we need to get the engines back up, and if we're lucky, we'll find Temple on the way." Hillary cringed slightly at the spoken "if", but refrained from speaking. If she was going to do something un-soldierly, she might as well save it for when she could tease Thomas. Still, she didn't really mind him all that much. _Guy did save my life, so…_

Vincent raised her hand, some sort of light flickering to life in it, and her Omnitool displayed a map not unlike what Jane had showcased at the briefing. The Chief only looked at the map for a few seconds, before it was turned off again. Without a word, Vincent took the lead towards a door to the right. _Yep, and now the mangy, angry chief of police gives us the silent treatment._

Hillary gave her Ripper a test-spin, just to be safe, as Vincent palmed the interface for a door with "Machine shop" digitally portrayed above it. The open door revealed a ramp going straight downwards, into a much less bright (and significantly much more creepier) part of the ship.

Down below, corpses were strewn about, human and a few zombies alike. The humans lacked arms, legs and even heads, while the closest dead zombie was sprawled on its back near a broken-open gate, limbs bent awkwardly to the sides. The floor was slick with blood as the team stopped, frozen at the sound of something moving in the closest room. Considering the situation, Hillary barely even bothered lifting an eyebrow at the (far too cliché and expected) slowly rolling canister coming into view. She looked back to where Kaidan was standing.

"Vincent, Thomas, check it out." The lieutenant whispered, gesturing into the room where a few suits were visible, hanging from notches on the wall. The marine and the guard nodded, no words spoken as one held the plasma saw, the other fire, and entered the room.

While the pair checked the room in silence, the rest of the team remained just outside, weapons pointed in all directions as they waited for the all clear. Hillary glanced at the dead zombie, eyeing a chance at seeing how effective her new toy was. _Let's see if… maybe I could saw off the legs…_

She pointed the Ripper at the zombie, resting the single laser-dot on the thing's legs, and pulled the trigger. There was a fair bit of recoil as the blade was launched. Then there was horrible roaring and screaming as the zombie, now missing both its legs, tried leaping at the group. It ended up falling flat forward, starting to haul itself forward instead.

"Fucking A!" Hillary shouted, even as guns and biotics flared towards the zombie. She (despite being just as surprised at the rest, and a little shocked as well) kept pressing the trigger as the blade sliced through the dead-yet-moving body, spilling intestines, arms, bones and blood on the floor until the thing simply dropped dead again. As the room fell silent again, she gently patted her Ripper; "Down, girl"

"Well… okay, lesson learned. Don't trust them to be dead unless they miss every single limb." Chief Ashley (and she would always be Chief Ashley, because she was a hardass, badass commanding officer) said, lowering her weapon. Hillary noted with no small amount of pride and glee, that just about no one had managed to shoot before she had ripped the fucker a new one. _Yeah, I'm thát good._

The group, now wary of supposedly sneaky undead, proceeded through what seemed like a workshop, complete with a large contraption labelled "Bench" with large neon-letters just above a sign warning people to watch their fingers, complete with a grizzly picture and everything. There were also a lot more corpses, as well as another one of the Engineer Temple's audio logs. Hillary shuddered, hearing the meaty sounds of a man pulling his own teeth out before being knocked unconscious by a door.

"Just what the fuck is happening on this ship? I mean, okay, so the dead are coming back, mutated. Seen that before, I have. But what the fuck is up with the living ones?" No one had an answer, leaving her to mutter and curse under her breath as they entered a much bigger room.

"Okay… heights and darkness. Just who the fuck designed this ship?" Thomas cursed, tapping a foot against the floor. The solid ground was gone, replaced by a catwalk that (at least to Hillary) seemed sturdy enough. The sound, was what got to her, not the view. The constant noise, grinding machines, metal stretching, something or someone stomping around, knocking shit over.

Whatever answer someone would have given him was cut short, as the sound of something scuttling along the floor alerted the group. Weapons up and searching, it was Hammond who saw the source first;

"Son of a bitch…" The man growled. Following his eyes, Hillary saw another one of the crawlers (because they crawled instead of running, so "crawler" it was) scurrying along on the underside of the catwalk, paying little attention to the group of armed humans, aside from a brief stop that lasted for about as long as it took to sneer, then scurried on.

"Is it just me, or are the monsters kinda wary of us now?" Clarke asked, rifle held to his shoulder as he followed where the creepy zombie had gone. As the team passed by a locker labelled "emergency supplies", Hillary opened it, curious as she was despite the situation.

"Fuck me sideways." She muttered, grinning behind her helmet. Aside from a small canister of Medigel, there was a shredder-module, lying nice and politely in the locker. If given the chance, maybe she could find a way to smack it on her rifle. Shredders did a lot more internal damage than usual, so it'd be kinda stupid to just leave it. _Also, it says "emergency". I think a ship-wide zombie-attack warrants "emergency"…_

"You said something?" Thomas asked as he walked by her, likely trying to discern what she had grabbed thís time. Guy really was a bit too uptight about the law and all that. Still, he'd saved her life on Eden Prime, so while she'd tease him at every given chance, lying wasn't something she did. At least, not very often.

"Mmm. Found some Medigel and a shredder-module." She said, holding up the small part for a weapon; "S' the same thing as on your Carnifex, just for rifles… I think. Need a workbench and less dead guys around to fit it."

Apparently, honesty from her side took him a little aback, as it was a whole second before he answered. A long-ass second where the rest of the team slowly proceeded, though Ashley glanced back at the two of them._ Worry not, Chief oh mine. Thy boyfriend I shall keepeth safe… or something like that. _

"Huh." Granted, while Thomas was a good guy, it wasn't always the brightest light bulb shining between his ears. Instead of trying to respond to a one-word sentence, she stuffed the module in a pouch on her belt, hefted the Ripper back up and jogged to keep up with the rest of the group. Turning right, she and Thomas had just caught sight of the team again, standing by a small holographic display, where Kaidan was pulling something downwards, she couldn't see what.

Just as she was ahead of the Chief, about to turn left by the safety rails, a vent broke above her, followed by an angry snarl even before she felt the kick of a human-ish body impact her own.

"FUCK!" The impact was somewhat lessened by the fact that the attacker had misjudged the jump, and one mutated foot hit the rails instead of her, resulting in an organic blade piercing the catwalk instead of her midsection. Even as she tried yanking the Ripper (inert, thank God) from beneath her, the Necro (and it was a rather fitting name), had yanked its blade free and was swinging it at her face; "Oh shit…"

The Necro's head, and most of its upper body, suddenly took a flight backwards, as a shotgun was pressed into its face and a trigger was pulled. The shot was followed up with a blast of fire hitting the remaining (stumbling like a fucking drunkard) torso, sending it after its head and shoulders, tumbling into the darkness below.

"You okay?" She was pulled to her feet again, her shoulders sore from the fall. Thomas had saved her life. Again. And people were nearby. And they'd seen it. _And there went my excuses for teasing the bastard… He'll never let me live this down._

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I could have taken that one out too, you know." She bit her lip beneath the helmet, grateful that no one could see. Stupid Thomas with his stupid firebending, saving her stupid butt. She could save her own butt, thank you very much.

"I know. Just didn't want you to get too far ahead." Thomas said, an obvious attempt at a joke. A joke. He'd been scared piss-less when he'd seen the Necro's the first time, and now the sunovabitch was making jokes. _He's spent way too much time around Jeff._

"Are you okay down there?" Ashley called, the concern easy to hear. She'd always been like that, sort of the admonishing and berating, but caring, mother of Dog Squad. Donkey had sort of been the dad, even if the Chief never fell for his obvious attempts at charming her panties off.

"We're fine. One of them jumped us, but nothing happened." Thomas called back. Hillary found herself a little grateful that he hadn't mentioned _who_ had gotten jumped. _Fuck, I'm going to end up liking this guy, aren't I? _

"Good. Okay, there's another one of these stations on the other side of the ravine." Isaac said, pointing at a lift hanging from a set of rails, just ahead of the two marines; "Problem is, it's only big enough for three people, four if you really squeeze it."

"What's the stations for?" Thomas asked.

"Each one controls the change of fuel-tanks. Seeing as nothing has happened yet, and the power is still flowing, I'm guessing Temple's team never made it to that point." Clarke didn't say it, but Hillary could hear what was left unsaid in his voice. Temple's team hadn't made it. They'd probably been some of the Necro's she'd been shooting at already. Fucking fantastic.

"Thomas. You, Pennyloafer and Clarke take the lift across. The rest of us hold here till you get back. The ravine is narrow enough that we can provide some fire-support across it." Kaidan called down from the raised station, his flashlight illuminating where they needed to go. Short or not, that was an awfully long way away from the others. _Great, fucking fantastic. Divide and conquer, and we're doing the dead bastards' job for them, splitting up like this._

Clarke, being the biotic left the station to head for them. As he was somewhere midway, the sound of a vent breaking and a Necro roaring in hunger and rage joined in with the belching fire of a rifle. Then, all was silent.

"Clarke!" Someone from the station yelled (it was fucking hard hearing who with those helmets), though no one moved.

"It's okay. They really need to stop roaring _before_ attacking." The N7 huffed as he came into view, fresh blood spattered across his armor; "_Completely_ gives them away."

Isaac Clarke, Hillary thought, had to be the single most insane man on the face of the galaxy, (if that was even a real wording, she didn't care). Sure, she herself wasn't _panicking _when the dead attacked, but Clarke seemed to actually find it entertaining. _Sick sunovabitch…still, it's nice to see skills following bravado._

"You actually _enjoy_ them?" Thomas exclaimed, aghast. Hillary held her tongue, since Thomas had just spoken her mind for her, (and wasn't that just odd?) so she instead opted to give the Ripper a test-spin.

"Enjoy? Kid, they are the living dead, mutated corpses of murdered innocents. I'd have to be sick in the head to enjoy any of this." The N7 sounded honestly dumbfounded at the question. As if he hadn't even considered it himself.

"Right, I didn't mean… you just sound so fucking calm about it." Thomas shot back, technically at least the same _rank_ as Clarke (though even Hillary knew N7's usually carried the authority of a lieutenant, regardless of actual rank). They were just thát badass. _And in Clarke's case, thát mental._

"Experience, Chief. Experience and more gruesome fights than you would bother counting." Clarke replied, huffing as he dragged the tram towards them with a biotic pull. As it came closer, it became clear that they might have to dump some… cargo.

A corpse, clad in the same uniform as the security-officer back at the security-station, was sprawled on what little space the tram offered. Hillary stepped on as the first, offering the corpse an apologetic nod before she heaved him (and he really looked quite young, maybe even younger than her) over the rails and into the darkness below. _This is so fucked up… I should be dumping dead Reaper-troops or Batarians into a pit, not my own species. _

She suppressed a wince when, in the silent room, the meaty _thwack_ of the corpse hitting the ground below could be heard for a single, painful instant._ Fuck… I didn't train for pulling around dead humans. I trained to handle dead aliens and shit, not…Fuck, just keep your game-face on._

The Ripper in her hands somehow was a soothing factor in the situation, even as she refrained from cradling it around Thomas. There was no way _he_ was going to see_ her_ weak. He was the one with all the emotions running around, falling in love with _her_ Chief. _Fuck, why am I thinking about- get it together. Jeff's just going to laugh his crippled ass off if he saw me like this._

She still had breaking his arm on her 'to-do' list. The idiot had been the cause for Shepard's death because he hadn't managed to pull his fingers from his butthole and get into an escape-pod. Fucking idiot.

"Weapons up, we've got a reception." Clarke's voice broke through her thoughts, causing her to snap from the floor to their destination. At least five of the Necrotic asshats were running around, flailing blades, roaring like monsters, and generally just being complete dicks to her mental health.

"I guess that means Temple's team's part of 'em?" She didn't even wait for an answer, instead spinning up her Ripper. For something meant as a mining tool, the thing was remarkably efficient at killing the undead.

"Fisher, I'll hit them with a stasis, then you and Pennyloafer reduce them to Shish Kebab. Got it?" Clarke said in a low voice, enough that the team on the station wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Got it. You up for it, Hillary?" the Chief asked, nodding as he glanced at her. Hillary patted the Ripper, grinning behind her helmet;

"Ask and thou shall receive an asskicking" At her nod, Clarke hit the assembled Necro's with a stasis-field wide enough to trap the whole group in the gravimetric prison. As the tram came within two meters of the slowed-down monsters, Hillary grinned darkly behind her helmet; "Rip 'em a whole lotta new assholes!"

At the same time as her weapon shot out the first blade, Thomas unleashed blasts of emerald flame from his hands, each punch washing over the undead crew with burning punishment (and wasn't thát a delicious wording?). The result was the chewing and slicing of steel through dead flesh, followed by killing everything with fire. _Fuck that, 'Kill it with fire!' so much needs to be on his armor. I wonder if I can get something to stitch it on his uniform while he's slee… that'd mean seeing Chief Ashley naked. No thank you._

Still, the notion of inscribing the phrase on the Chief's armor was still valid and (in her eyes) a good way to shake him from his constant 'follow the rules, be boring' stupor. Fuck it. For now, she was doing just as much killing, even if she lost two blades when Thomas "accidentally" melted them. Fucker.

"Clear." Clarke called as the last Necro pretty much crawled in on itself to escape the clinging fire (seriously, what was Thomas spraying them with, napalm?), and the tram made it the last bit of distance towards the other side; "Alright. Keep your guards up and cover each other. When we get to the station, I'll finish the refueling while you make sure not to die horribly."

"Yeah well, same to you, old man." Hillary shot back, stomping down on the burnt remains of a skull, splintering it and sending fragments and fangs in every direction. Isaac sputtered behind her, causing her to grin like a complete goof. _Thank God for the helmet._

"I'm only thirty-nine!"

"Damn, thát old? I thought it was somewhere near thirty or twenty-nine." Oh, but she enjoyed unnerving men, whether it be her vocabulary or her blunt inquiries, or simply tha casual insults (those were the funniest)

"Shut up…" The N7 muttered. Hillary's grin only spread as she heard Thomas choke on his own amusement. _Achievement unlocked: Make Mister Thomas Hotman laugh on a zombie-ship. Yep, now I just need to make Alenko blush and I'll have the whole set._

Still, that could wait. Which she didn't really mind, as they traversed the stairs and ramps towards the last station.

"I still don't get it. What even started this whole-" Thomas started, walking next to her. She was only just turning around when something flung itself through the air, impacting on the Chief's back with a meaty _thwack_ and a high-pitched scream, throwing the man to the ground. Almost instantly, he started simmering green, though the mutated (and fucking hell it really was) baby on his back only seemed to grow ever more pissed at getting its hands and feet burnt.

Snapping to action, Clarke levelled his rifle straight at the undead infant, pulled the trigger and unleashed the underslung shotgun straight into its dead face. It didn't kill it, merely threw it straight off Thomas's back, leaving a quad of singed claw prints on his armor. Hillary snapped around as another high-pitched scream joined in as well as a gurgling roar, signaling not one, but two new arrivals, just as Thomas reenacted the age-old tradition of kicking a midget, sending the now-dead baby flying into the nearest wall with a fresh and meaty _thwack_ that sounded a lot like snapping bones. Well fuck, it was dead and that was it.

"One for each, Chief. Want me to take the undead diaper-stain?" She asked. It was because she found it curious as to the appearance of babies on the ship, but also (and fuck those who claimed this, she'd deny it) because she wanted to spare Thomas from having to kill what he might still see as a baby.

Didn't really matter in the end, as the baby flung itself straight at her, a trio of barbed tendrils shooting from its back. _I've seen enough Hentai to know where this is going._

Recoiling slightly as the undead toddler hit her face-on, she was greeted by the high-pitched scream, only now up and close, and much more annoying than before, as it clung to her helmet (also it seemed the undead didn't bother removing genitals. Who'd have thought?)

From what she could hear (since her vision was sorta obstructed) Clarke had visitors too, namely one of the Crawlers. Fuck it, she could keep playing Hug's-a-lot with this thing. Forcing a hand between the belly and her visor, she pushed the screaming baby-Necro from her face and threw it away. It hit the ground hard enough to kill a regular infant, then leapt right at her again. This time, instead of landing on her helmet, it landed on the spinning blade of her Ripper. The blade sawed through the dead body like through so much plywood, showering Hillary and her immediate surroundings with gore, blood and fragments.

As the dead body dropped to the ground, Hillary looked around to take in the situation. Thomas had of course disposed of his opponent, plus two more that had dropped in without her seeing them (not her fault, taking a baby-Necro to the face kinda made it hard to see), and Clarke was in the process of, very brutally, tearing the tail off the (now one-armed) Crawler, before stomping its head in.

"Well… that was fun." Due to the adrenaline running in her veins, she wasn't entirely sure if it had been one of the men or herself speaking, but she agreed somewhat to the sentiment. Especially because seeing Thomas brushing one of the tendrils from his shoulder was grin inducing.

"Anyone wounded?" Clarke asked, checking where one of the Crawler's claws had apparently gotten stuck in his shoulder. At the comforting 'no's, they made it the final bit to the station, where Clarke pulled the lever. Hillary was almost disappointed that nothing happened at that (well, except for the whole 'fuel' thing. Thát worked), but decided not to voice her annoyance. Just because something was terribly anticlimactic didn't mean it was bad.

It was a little unnerving though, as the entire trip back went without a single mishap, (except for when Thomas shot her an obvious stink-eye for taking credits from a locker) and they made it back to the rest of the group.

"Alright, what's next?" Thomas asked, relaxing his grip on his shotgun. Vincent was the one to pull up the map of the deck.

"We need to get the engines back online, or we're going to hit the planet. Found another one of Temple's logs. Apparently, he suspected someone of sabotaging the systems." The Chief said, apparently remembering something uncomfortable (because what could _possibly_ be uncomfortable on a zombie-ship?).

"Great, now humans are fucking us over too?" Pendleton exclaimed, angry with no one in particular apparently.

"Humans always fuck each other over. Nothing stops thát, not a park full of dinosaurs, not an alien invasion and certainly not a ship full of zombies." Hillary drawled, unable to resist taking advantage of the obvious naivety needed to be surprised at humans doing some of the backstabbing too. She just couldn't see the "why" of the scenario.

Instead of taking the longer route back, the team followed what seemed to be shortcut to the engine-room. The route led them to end up on the outside of the security-station where they'd found the dead body in his chair. What they saw, made Hillary _cringe_.

A new creature, _definitely_ not resembling a human, was flapping through the air towards the dead guard, behaving like some form of fucked-up bird.

"The hell is…" She started, but trailed off as bile caught in her throat. The bird-thing grabbed a hold of the dead guard, and then _fucking speared_ his head with a long tendril coming straight from its own mouth, allthewhile it flapped and remained in the air, pumping some sort of liquid into the dead man's head. Grime and blood stood in a fountain from the mask, as fangs broke through from the inside. The uniform was torn and shredded, and the skin turned black faster than the eyes of the team believed.

The flapping creature then released the corpse, which began roaring and stumbling, shedding the finals remains of its humanity before taking off at a sprint towards the closest vent, shattering the fan blade in the process. And it was gone.

A storm of emotions and disbelief must have flooded the mind of every member of the team, though it ended up summarized when Nicolai opened his mouth;

"What… the _fuck_."

Hillary found that statement very fitting. 'What the fuck' indeed.


	13. Gravity

**Next chapter, gents**

**Also, just passed scriptual finals! Now I'm down to the last verbal test, and then it's off to bloody ride around in a truck with silly flags and drink and drink and... you get the point (though I'm rather bad at drinking. My metabolism is backwards. I get one bear= drunk. Ten minutes later, when others start feeling tipsy, I'm fresh once more. Repeat for profit)**

**Ah well, time for some undead slaying. **

**Kindly remember to review, even if you do not enjoy Dead Space as a game for itself. I find it merges well with Mass Effect.**

* * *

**Gravity**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Engineering Deck, Control station

16:29

"Okay… anyone feel like hanging around for Flappy-bird to come back?" Hillary asked, casting an obviously nervous glance around the room. The team had entered, nervous for the reappearance of the zombifier. To add to their troubles, Jane and Kendra had just called in. Apparently, and this was just another notch to the migraine building in Thomas' cranium, something called the "gravity-centrifuge" had gone offline, meaning that the small mountain hanging from the ship was going to drag them towards the planet again.

(Because apparently it had been a good idea to remain in orbit over the fucking planet that was going crazy below them).

"Not really, no." Tequila muttered, palming the interface for the elevator; "Alright, so we need the gravity-centrifuge back on?"

"Yes. We're going to find out if they even still work, since with our luck they probably don't." Kaidan sighed, entering the elevator, shotgun pointed upwards to seek out anything that might hide in the corners, waiting to snap a meal. Thomas was next in, standing as far to the side as he could to make room; "Going to have a space-issue though."

"No props. The rest of us will wait till the elevator comes back down." Nicolai said, hefting his massive gun to the floor, using the stock as support; "Or, we could get the engines back on while you take care of the centrifuge-thing." He said, glancing around; "We _are_ enough for two large teams."

"I don't believe it. A suicide-plan, from you, Nicolai?" Tequila chuckled, shaking her head. Kaidan seemed to be in thoughts at the idea, looking at the people around him.

They were still twelve people, so two six-man teams shouldn't be in all thát much risk of being overrun, Thomas figured. Though that could mean either him or Tequila getting swapped to the other team, _if_ Kaidan even saw the outcome overcoming the risks of it. Twelve people _did_ present a lot more firepower than six. Still, there wasn't really a chance Kaidan was going to split them…

"We'll do it." _Well… so much for thát pinch of optimism_; "Boss, you take charge of your team, same as before. Clarke, with him. Hillary, Ashley and Thomas with me to the centrifuge. Meet back here in one hour. Anything more and assume something went wrong."

"Yes sir!" Boss replied, rallying the team under him. Thomas could imagine it annoyed Clarke a little, taking orders from a sergeant when he himself was an N7. Then again, Boss knew the team better than Clarke, with the exception of Pendleton and Vincent. Seeing how Thomas in theory held more firepower than Tequila, the security-officers were sent with Boss.

"Well… this brings back memories." Thomas mused, standing close-packed with the others in the lift. Kaidan 'hmmm'ed, while Hillary snorted in small laugh. Ashley just shook her head at his antics, probably remembering quite a few similar trips up and down the Citadel's elevators as well. (He wondered if they could still do that, now with humanity detracted from the Citadel species and all)

"No shit. Hope the Citadel didn't get a case of space-zombies in the meantime." The private mused right back at him.

"It did. We killed a whole lot of them, remember?"

"Oh right… the Husks. Huh…"

"What?" Thomas asked, tilting his head in question. He'd seen Boss and Scorch do it so often, it had somehow spread to him as well.

"Have to wonder if these fuckers are some sort of Husks. I mean, they do fill the same roles… new strategy from the Reapers, you think?" Hillary huffed, checking her Ripper as she leant against the wall.

"God, I hope not. That'd mean this was all… all this was planned by someone, or _something_. Can you even call a thing like Sovereign for _someone_?" Ashley said in a low voice. Thomas found himself wishing Roku was there with them, but the mechanical spirit-bastard had apparently seen fit to leave without telling anyone,_ again_. It really was annoying. And weird, he didn't usually dump the team like that.

"Dunno. Depends on what Sovereign even _was_." Kaidan mulled, taking a hand to the chin of his helmet out of simple habit; "I mean, was it a machine, or something like Roku?"

Suddenly, the eyes of every person in the elevator was on Thomas, who shifted uncomfortably in reaction. Roku had said Nazara was something akin to a fallen god, right? That'd mean Sovereign wasn't as much a machine as it was a machine-body hosting a god (Because a god of Destruction and death in itself wasn't evil enough. Oh no, gotta add the tentacles and red lasers, just to make sure people knew it was _evil_)

"More like Roku, I think." He shrugged, breathing a sigh of both relief and trepidation as the lift's doors opened, revealing a short hallway leading to a chamber meant for decontamination. The room was so far the nicest looking room on the entire ship. How ironic that the decontamination-chamber on a zombie-ship would be the sole place left untouched. The area around the entrance to the room was stacked with open lockers.

He didn't even blink as Hillary started for the closest one.

"Only way is through the decon-chamber. Shouldn't be much of a problem, but keep your guards up nonetheless." Thomas winced as Kaidan once again used the deadly words that heralded doom.

"Famous last words much?" Hillary seemed to have the same idea about the lieutenant's choice of words. Didn't mean she stopped looting peoples' belongings while she spoke though. Also didn't stop her from eyeing the "bench" at the wall; "Hey guys, can we take five? Need to check this thing out."

"Five minutes break." Kaidan agreed, though he remained on guard, shotgun aimed at whatever points of entrance he could find nearby. Hillary did what Thomas was tempted to call a fistpump in the air, then set to work at figuring out the bench. Ashley, meanwhile, leant against the locker next to him, giving off a deep, drawn-out sigh.

"I hate this ship." She muttered under her breath. Thomas leant next to her, intertwining his hand with hers. It was a small measure of solace in this place, but he would take it over anything else the infested ship could offer; "How're you holding up?"

"It's fine." Thomas shrugged, resting his head on the locker behind him. Ashley gave his hand a squeeze just hard enough that it carried the message 'don't bullshit me' clear across; "I… I don't really know." He admitted sheepishly. It sometime bothered him that she could see straight through him, even with a helmet on. Still, it spared him a few awkward situations along the way.

"Scared?" Ashley asked in a low voice, relaxing her grip on his fingers. Thomas hesitated, not knowing fully what to say. Was he scared? Yes. He was. But, it wasn't as much a personal fear as it was the fear of what he might lose. _He_ had protection. But what if he slipped up? What if he let one of them past him, right at Ashley? She didn't have protection. There wouldn't be any unnatural fire protecting _her_.

The mere thought made him cringe.

"In… Yeah, I…Not, not for myself. I'm not scared for myself." Thomas managed to breathe out, though the words stung his heart each time he even considered what he feared. He knew, _knew_, that the life they lived, it was dangerous. There would always be the risk of thát one stray bullet, slug or bolt of plasma, waiting for them.

"For me." It wasn't a question as much as it for a statement of what she probably knew to be true already. What he'd felt since before Feros. He had long-since stopped fearing for his own life as the priority, and not just because Roku seemed to hold his hands over him, but because there was someone more important than his own life.

"…Yes." He breathed, feeling his throat tighten a little.

"Don't. I know what you're thinking. If you slip up, or somehow I get injured, you'll blame yourself for it." Her voice was gentle, but held the same hardness she had displayed when he told her of his guilt, of how he felt it was on him that people had died. He still felt like that, but… not so much as before.

"Break's over people" Kaidan announced before Thomas could say anything. At the same time, Hillary emerged victorious from the bench, hoisting her Lancer with a new shredder-module on its muzzle. Thomas ignored her claims of it now being an automatic shotgun, instead trying to figure out his own mind, and more importantly, how Ashley always read him so easily; "When we get to the Centrifuge, we're setting up a link with the bridge, see if Daniels or one of the bridge-crew can guide us through it."

"Right… let's go kick some undead balls." Hillary was the first through the door to the decon-chamber, palming the interface for the activation-sequence the moment Thomas stepped in as the last. For some reason, it had been designed so that the decontamination went on in darkness, with alarm-claxons and yellow lights for no apparent reason.

"_Quarantine lockdown enacted. Hostile life forms detected."_

A vent broke in the ceiling, making Thomas reconsider his thoughts about needless alarms;

"It's in here with us!" He yelled, his helmet automatically adjusting to the new lighting, if slowly. There was movement to his left, something stalking towards them from the opposite corner. As his helmet adjusted, he could see the creature stalking towards them, making as little sound as a dead thing possibly could when about to kill.

Kaidan had seen it too, apparently, and smeared most of it on the wall with a powerful throw of biotic energy, leaving the legs to stumble about before falling to the ground.

"_Quarantine lifted. Thank you for your patience" _The same feminine VI said, turning the lights back on. Thomas glanced at the very much dead zombie, and blew a breath of relief, as well as some puzzlement;

"Well… that was sure as hell anticlimactic." He muttered, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"Let's just get a move on, alright?" Kaidan said, leading them out of the room, though he took effort to _not_ step in the liquefied remains of the undead attacker. No one spoke a word, except for the mandatory snort of amusement from Hillary as she walked out of the room last, holding her small arsenal of manslaughter ready. In her right hand, a Ripper capable of carving through solid rock, as well as shoot out hovering blades. And in her left hand, the Lancer-II, complete with underslung shotgun and a shredder-module affixed to the muzzle of the rifle itself.

Having cleared a long, empty hallway, the team stopped before a large, round door with the letters "Gravity-centrifuge" rolling in digital above it. Amazing how systems constantly broke down and people died, but labels and signs seemed to work flawlessly. Really was a wonder.

"So, we go in?" Thomas asked, reading a red label at the side of the door. It warned them that the room was without gravity, of all things. _Makes sense, I guess. Gravity's gotta be involved with something called the 'Gravity-centrifuge'._

"Anyone here unfamiliar with working in zero-G?" Kaidan asked, looking around at them. Thomas huffed, annoyed that this was something even Hillary surpassed him in. Then again, she surpassed him in a lot of ways. Sighing, he raised his hand like an embarrassed school-kid, waiting for the teacher to take note of him; "Right. Okay, Thomas. You just need to remember not to focus on one single surface as the "right" one, but simply as every surface being viable."

"Also don't fart. It hurts like hell, just so you know." Hillary said, sounding ever so amused with his discomfort, or impending discomfort, to be accurate.

"Thanks…" He muttered dryly as the door hissed open, revealing a thin, mist-like field separating them from the lacking gravity of the _enormous_ room beyond. Thomas stepped through first, feeling his boots automatically magnetize and secure him to the catwalk; "Well… fuck."

Aside from the expected debris floating through the air, there were also a fair amount of corpses. The dead sailed through the air in slow, graceful curves, gently bumping off when they hit a solid surface. Aside from the mandatory presence of dead bodies, a few explosive canisters were floating around as well, though Thomas had no idea why there would be explosive canisters of gasoline and kerosene there in the first place.

"Alright. Follow my lead, we're getting the dynamos reconnected to the main turbine." Kaidan ordered, then pushed off from the catwalk. He sailed through the air, gracefully like a swan before he hit the ceiling. Ashley was next, then Hillary and Thomas as the last man. He hated this feeling already, the feeling of weighing absolutely nothing. His arms and hands felt like moving them around in something thinner than air, and he couldn't discern at first whether he was moving them up or down.

"Come on, Chief. Just pretend you're a pretty bird, flap your arms and shit." Hillary called down, or up, or… fuck it. He pushed off, holding his breath in fright as the ground removed itself below him, and he sailed through the air with what he saw as far, far too much speed.

When he hit the ceiling, it was remarkably less graceful than the others, and he ended up skidding along it before a boot connected with the surface, and jolted him to a stop. Swallowing his bile (and the fucking strain in his leg, because that had hurt like the Seven Hells), he planted the other foot on the ceiling and forced himself to stand down… up, head downwards or…_This is going to take some getting used to…_

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"Don't tease him, Hill."

"I'm just offering moral support."

"And I really am thankful…" Thomas growled, flailing his arms to gain a better balance; "But I think I can do without your moral support, unless those include an anti-migraine-pill."

"Anti-Migraine pill?" There was a definite amused smirk in Ashley's voice as she held him steady. Thomas grumbled and looked at his feet;

"I've no idea what it's called in English, okay?"

"Thought your translator would pick it up?" Ashley asked, probably wondering what the problem was. Thomas could feel his cheeks redden in slight shame;

"I… don't know what it's called in Danish either." To which Ashley blew a light chuckle, tapping him on the helmet;

"Sometimes, Thomas, I really wonder."

"As long as you don't start making out here and now, Chief's. We sorta have a mission." Hillary snickered, pushing off from the ceiling to follow Kaidan towards the floor.

"She's such a child. Still, I'm glad you have your oddities." Ashley said, offering his hand a brief, tight squeeze before pushing off towards the floor herself. Thomas found himself looking at her butt as she sailed away, then sighed and adjusted his footing for a better take-off.

He just wasn't allowed to, as what Hillary had dubbed a "Crawler" suddenly came sailing through the air, landing before him on the ceiling, where it of course offered a bone-chilling howl.

"Thomas!" Ashley yelled from below, already preparing to take off to help him.

"It's okay, just finish the job down there." He called back down, though his eyes remained locked on the creature before him; "You really are one ugly fuck, aren't you?"

Apparently, the creature didn't like being insulted, as it leapt for him the moment he finished speaking. It was a lot faster than he'd have thought, and it was capable of crawling around on the ceiling without any kind of magnetic boots.

Kinda badass, now that he thought about it. Badass, but still really creepy.

Sidestepping as big a distance as he could cover without having to risk jumping, Thomas dodged the zombie as it continued its flight, passing him with an angry howl before it landed some five meters away, instantly snapping about. Bracing himself for another attack, Thomas went into the same stance Roku always used when he came flying at the geth. It was frustratingly difficult to do while standing heads-down though.

When the thing jumped him again, seemingly unable to comprehend the risks, he snapped his bionic hand out, grabbed the thing by its mutated throat (and gods above it was ugly up close. The lower face was completely gone, with something like long fangs or tusks protruding from the neck, while fangs jutted out from the upper jaw, trying to bite his left hand off. It seemed completely unaware of the fire in his right hand, up until the point where the burning, clenched fist punched through its skull, continued through the upper spine and tore through an arm before the bionic fist tore the other off and threw it to the side.

Left with only the grotesque tail, the creature went dead.

Gunfire from below alerted him to the presence of more creatures. Looking down, he saw Hillary and Ashley work to keep the undead off Kaidan. The lieutenant worked his biotics on the massive generator, slowing the rotating beam down, while dragging the entire machine towards where it would connect with the main turbine. Pushing off from the ceiling, Thomas went to join them.

This time at least, he managed to soften his impact by crouching as he landed, though he was swiftly hit in the back with something hard and heavy, propelling him forward in a staggering run against the wall. Right behind him, one of the monsters howled, but the howl was suddenly replaced with the sound of a chainsaw-blade slicing through meat and bone._ Yeah well, I saved her life, she saves mine… sorta._

"God, I love this weapon!" He both heard and saw Hillary exclaim, before levelling her Lancer at the closest undead, the slugs spewing from her shredder-module ripping through the necrotic flesh almost as fast as normal slugs into a soldier who actually cared about being shot.

"And the first generator is in. Thomas, get to the controls and be ready to activate when I give the order. Hopefully we can avoid more trouble if we get this done fast." Kaidan said, not waiting for Thomas to reply before pushing off towards a wall, then used thát wall to push off again, landing him solidly on the opposite side of the room faster than Thomas bothered even trying to copy.

"Right, yes sir." He muttered, pushing off against the floor while the women went with Kaidan (if it hadn't been so seriously horrifying a situation, Thomas might have made a joke about it) and gritted his teeth as he braced for impact.

This time went a little better though. 'A little better' was a nicer way to consider what most would call 'hitting the wall but without bouncing off'. In any case, his magnetic soles locked on to the wall, allowing him to walk the last bit down towards the catwalk. Meanwhile, the trio on the other side of the room repeated their former success, this time with only a single crawler leaping at them. Thomas rested against the wall, waiting for Kaidan and the others to make their way to him, jumping around the room like a bunch of monkeys. He did keep the last thought to himself though.

"Hit the gravity. Oh and, seal your armor, we're about to go into a vacuum." It was almost funny how Kaidan seemed to only add the last part as a quick thought, if it hadn't been because Thomas would have suffocated without knowing to seal up. _Bloody Canadian… _

Still, he obliged and activated the centrifuge, tapping the command for his armor to rely on its own air-supply for the next ten minutes. Should be more than enough, considering it wasn't like he was going into outer space for a longer grabble with… with…

There was some sort of block, like a mist where his mind should have been able to call up previous experience as a reference. Like not being able to remember a dream. _Gods, I hate amnesia._

Before anyone could speak, and while he was silently watching the counter on his HUD counting down from nine minutes and forty-seven seconds, their comms buzzed.

"_You're doing great, guys."_ It was Jane. She didn't sound particularly cheerful though; _"The centrifuge is online and Boss' team has already started up the engines. They lost Hammond, though…"_

"Shit…Fuck, fuckity fuck." Hillary cursed, clenching her fist. Thomas pressed his eyes shut and found himself remembering what little interaction he had had with the man. There wasn't much, but he had found Hammond to be a decent person, if more brawns than brains, disrespectful as the thought probably was. He hoped whatever god or gods Hammond believed in would watch over the man… but refrained from voicing the thought.

"_The team lost him when they got swarmed after turning on the engines. There was no way to recover his body."_ What everyone knew now, was that thát meant they'd likely be facing the undead version at some point, just to turn the knife in the open wound;_ "Also, there's been a… development."_

"Captain?" Kaidan asked as the team made their way back to the entrance. Unfortunately, that meant carefully timed sprints between each passing of the monstrous centrifuge-arm. Thomas really rather would not consider what would happen if someone was hit with that thing.

"_I couldn't reveal this earlier, with the risk of either Vincent or Pendleton listening in, but it's time you knew the secondary goal for this mission."_ There was a hint of regret in her voice, something Thomas definitely didn't find soothing.

"…Exactly what's going on?" Ashley asked after some hesitation. Thomas knew she'd never really completely stopped mistrusting Jane, and if the Captain was holding out on them, that'd just worsen the relationship between them.

"_Admiral Fisher tasked me with arresting Captain Benjamin Mathius for illegal transgressions into quarantined territory. There was a possibility Mathius would have found something… he wasn't supposed to find, and especially not bring home."_

"Wait, you saying these Necro's are caused by that bastard?" Hillary exclaimed, drawing a frustrated sigh from the entire team.

"Don't be stupid, Hillary." Thomas snapped, more than a little annoyed that she'd start accusing the Ishimura's captain of cooking up the undead in his backyard.

"_Actually, she isn't thát far of the mark."_ Jane said, causing an inappropriate amount of chills to run down Thomas' spine; _"A hundred years ago, even before the Pandora-incident, an organization known as the "Church of Uniotology" started looking for obelisks called "Markers" in Alliance space. These things were holy to the Uni's because the founder of their religion was killed shortly after finding one in the Chixculub-crater. The Church blamed EarthGov, which doesn't exists anymore, and now blames the Alliance instead."_

"So, Mathius found a monument?" Thomas asked, not really sure where the conversation was going. The puzzlement also meant he narrowly avoided getting his leg torn off when the centrifuge passed by, causing the entire area to tremble.

"_Officially, the "Marker" is just a monument. To the Church, it's the same as the second coming of Christ. Alliance Command though…"_

"Let me guess, it's a Reaper artifact." Kaidan said as Jane trailed off, while Thomas stiffened. _Fuck… Reapers? Here? Then…this really _is_ the Reapers' doing? Does Harbinger controls both Collectors and these things? _

"_Exactly what Alliance Command believes. Hence why this entire system is sealed off for all travel. Also, the colony on Aegis Seven was supposed to have been dismantled decades ago… someone didn't get the memo, and now Mathius wanted to ship home a Reaper Artifact."_

"Fuck me…" Thomas muttered, taking the lift up as the last person. Kaidan was already at the door leading back the way they'd entered.

"_No thank you. I think it's safe to assume the undead crewmembers have undergone something similar to the Husks we saw last year."_

"Captain, sending you a vid-file. We've seen how the crew is turned." Kaidan said in a low tone, leaning against the wall in the small air-lock between the outside corridor and the gravity-centrifuge. There was a short pause, where background-noise in Jane's link revealed she was watching the gruesome transformation.

"_This… it doesn't change things. Kill anything hostile, but focus on those "infectors". We can't… wait. What the hell are you- Daniels! Restrain the man, for God's sake! Stop fighting, you old idiot. You already face trials for illegal- what the- I said hold him you-!... Oh fuck…"_

"Captain? Jane?" Kaidan stood from the wall, concern clear in his voice.

"_Oh shit, shit, shit…Fuck. No, wait! Doctor!" _Jane yelled on the other end.

"Jane!" Kaidan almost shouted, pacing around as he could only listen and guess what was going on.

"_Fuck…okay, mission-relevant update. Mathius is dead. One of the ship's doctors, Terrence Kyne stabbed him in the eye with a sedative. For now, our mission is simplified to making it out alive. And… wait."_

The team waited in dead silence, not knowing what the hell was going on. Thomas wasn't even sure he wanted to know. _Mathius is dead? Fuck us, Vincent's going to flip her shit when she hears this…_

"_Okay… fuck. First of all, Daniels just took off after Kyne. Second, and far more disturbing… apparently, hydroponics are being poisoned. Something's filling up the entire deck with organic matter, but fuck if I know what. I'm trying to restore systems from up here, but the bridge is scared shitless for the moment… I never should have taken this mission. I'm sorry."_

"Don't. Captain, you had no way of knowing what would happen. We took down Saren, we can handle this." Kaidan tried reassuring her, though even Thomas could tell it wasn't going to help.

"_Tell that to… what the… fuck, never mind. Thought I saw someone I… Just get to hydroponics and find a way to kill that… whatever is doing this. Shepard out."_ The link was terminated, leaving the rest of the team in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds. Long, painful seconds of contemplation.

"Well, you heard her. Next stop: Tram-station, then hydroponics." Kaidan said, his voice strained with frustration. Thomas didn't have much trouble guessing what was going through the man's head. It wasn't a big secret that Kaidan seemed to have a monumental crush on Jane, and just like himself, Kaidan wanted to protect the people he cared about; "I can't wait to get off this ship."

Stacking up behind the round door, the team followed through as Kaidan palmed the interface and unlocked the mechanism. They piled into the long, empty corridor, taking care to keep distance to a hole that had appeared in the wall at ground-level, easily big enough for a grown man to crawl through. _Well, that does eliminate their need for vents if they just rip open the fucking wall. Awesome._

Kaidan glanced back at them as they walked. He was probably worried that his team might suffer casualties as well, seeing how team two had been substantially bigger, and had still lost Hammond. The man himself was no pushover, Thomas knew, and he had still been killed. _Fuck, this is all just… _

"Stay sharp. If we're lucky, we won't…" He trailed off as the sound of something heavy suddenly rammed against the other side of the wall they were nearing. It sounded like someone was hitting the wall with a large slab of meat, and the bulging metal told of something _strong_ swinging the meat; "Stay calm. Retreat a bit, we don't need more of those things"

As the team was focusing on the place where the wall was straining, none of them had noticed that they were nearing the hole in the wall they'd already passed.

"I don't like this… sounds a lot bigger than the others." Ashley muttered, training her rifle at the expected place of breach. Thomas was going to speak, seeing as he too was frightened, but never got to say a word.

Something new, big and rotten shot out from the hole behind them. It caught the entire team by surprise, and apparently aimed for the closest person: Hillary. She herself leapt to the side, discarding her weapons and narrowly avoided the tentacle-like arm grabbing for her.

Not even pausing, the tentacle continued out, searching for a new target. Thomas jumped back in horror, swiping at the meaty appendix with his hand lit on fire. Aside from a slight recoil at the contact with fire, the thing didn't seem particularly bothered. Instead, it hit Thomas in the chest, sending him flying into the opposite wall where the heavy banging had stopped, his vision dancing around with flickering lights.

"Shoot it!" Kaidan ordered, blasting pellets from his shotgun straight into the meaty claws at the tip of the tentacle. Hillary and Ashley followed, rolling away whenever the tentacle grabbed for one of them. Hillary leapt forward, her Ripper spinning as she sunk the blade into the undead flesh. Stuck in the necrotic tissue, her saw-blade snapped like a piece of glass, tearing apart the entire tool and snapping the bone in Hillary's right hand. Crying out in pain, she fell backwards, watching in shock, as her Ripper was smashed to pieces with every jolting convulsion of undead flesh as the tentacle moved.

Ashley was next in line, slammed into the wall with enough force to break her spine if not for the armor. Instead, it left her just as dazed as Thomas had ended up, unable to do more than meekly fire her sidearm at the tentacle as it grabbed her around the midsection, cold, dead flesh clinging to her like a hand. Biting through the pain in her right arm, Hillary raised her left and sprayed slugs towards the tentacle, as far away from Chief Ashley as she could. There was no way she would let the thing have her Chief, but she also very much didn't want to shoot Ashley. The shots tore into the dead tissue, but didn't do much more than bring out an enraged howl from somewhere deep within the ship.

Kaidan jumped in, slamming a fist flaring with disruptive energies into the flesh of the tentacle, tearing through it with a disgusting, organic-sounding tearing of matter. Something _big_ howled in anger, and slammed Ashley into Hillary, throwing both women along the ground in a heap. Kaidan jumped back, narrowly avoiding the tentacle's attempt to grab his leg. He looked around, noticing that all three members of his team were out cold or just now starting to come to. There was no way he was leaving them behind by simply fleeing.

Encasing himself in a reaving field of gravitational energy, he shot forward, dodging the mangled fist of the tentacle as it slammed down where he had just been. Using his biotics, he jumped in the air as the tentacle made a sweep towards him.

It caught his foot.

The disruption in his leap made him hit the wall head-on, cracking the transparent alloy in his visor and sending stars to his eyes.

Kaidan hit the ground hard, his biotics only managing to soften the impact enough that he didn't fully lose consciousness. Something heavy smashed down on his left leg, crushing everything from foot to thigh under its weight. He screamed in agony, even as his HUD flared with a warning of a suit-breach. Adrenaline riding his system, and panic flooding his mind, Kaidan hurled a warp at the meat holding his leg in a crushing grip, managing to tear off a chunk of yellow, diseased flesh. The entire arm convulsed and throbbed in what seemed like actual pain, before retracting into the hole, leaving the heavily bleeding man on the floor, wheezing and sobbing in agony, his shaking body starting a weak crawl away from the wall, dragging the destroyed leg like a sack of flesh.

Thomas blinked, his vision returning slowly as his head started becoming less like a ever-exploding grenade, and more like a dull hammer hitting his temples from inside. The specks of light faded from his eyes, allowing him to start processing what was before him. First, a dull pain was throbbing in his right leg. Looking at it, his hazed mind idly recognized that the limb was bent an odd angle behind him. _That's… probably bad._

He couldn't even move the leg in question, so it was probably a bad thing. Numbly, probably because of all the painkillers his armor was pumping into him, he tried again, managing to move the foot a bit. Well, that was progress, so… his fingers were buzzing. Why were they buzzing? They didn't _look_ different, any of them. There was something, like a whimpering sob in the background of his consciousness. It probably wasn't important, or… maybe it was. Why was his mind so boggled.

"You need to get up, Thomas." He nodded, idly looking at the older woman next to him. She was all clad in civilian, her auburn hair hanging from her head in a braided ponytail. (okay, so a lot of it was grey, so what?)

"Hey Mom…" He muttered, not even registering the oddity of her presence; "I think I broke my leg."

"Oh, my poor boy." She cooed, giving him a loving hug; "You are a grown man now, a big boy."

"I know. I even got a girlfriend." He said, smiling goofily as slight reddening reached his neck; "Her name's Ashley. She's really beautiful."

"I'm so proud of you, Thomas." She said, smiling warmly at him; "I think you should go to her. Don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. We're fighting a lot of scary things, because I'm a real soldier now." He said proudly, then looked back down at his leg; "Can't walk though…"

When he looked back up, there was no one there. The sobbing was still going on in the background, and his mind was starting to clear up. With a cold, cold start of realization, Thomas recognized the voice sobbing. _Kaidan…Kaidan?_

Snapping up from his broken leg, Thomas' eyes widened in horror as he discovered the lieutenant dragging himself across the floor. Thomas was at least ten meters away, but he could still see the thick trail of blood behind Kaidan, as well as the mangled mess that was the man's left leg. _Oh gods…_

Gasping in pain, Thomas pushed himself from the wall and stumbled forward, falling when he took the first step. The agony washing over him was enough to send him keeling and gagging with nausea as he could feel bone scraping bone. A fresh cry of pain and distress breached his hazed mind, forcing Thomas back to reality. There. Kaidan was injured. He was _really_ injured. Kaidan was injured. Kaidan. The man who'd practically been a mentor in social behavior since Thomas had even gotten on the Normandy. The man who had time and time again risked himself for members of the crew, for their friends.

_No. No fucking way! I won't let him be harmed! No FUCKING WAY!_

Biting through the pain, Thomas hobbled forward, falling to his knees again as the pain became too much, then simply crawled towards Kaidan. There were cracks in the lieutenant's helmet, and Thomas could see sparks from places where his armor had been compromised.

"Kaidan!" He called out, begging for the man's attention. He was close now. Close enough to reach out a hand and… save his friend. Save his friend. From drifting away. From falling to the planet below. No. No, Kaidan was… John was… Kaidan. Kaidan needed help. Thomas could hear it in the heavy breathing coming from the cracks in the lieutenant's helmet. The exhaustion caused Thomas to flicker away the specks of light entering his vision, then grabbed for Kaidan's outstretched hand.

Missed.

Reach again, closer. Thomas growled, frustrated that his arm refused to work. He could see Kaidan was bleeding heavily from the ruined leg being dragged after him. Medigel could fix that. It had to.

Then Thomas saw something shoot from the hole in the wall. A new tentacle, or the old, he didn't know. His mind refused to process the fact that the heavy, meaty claw slammed down on Kaidan's already broken leg, causing the man to scream in agony as his bones were pulped to fragments.

Thomas stared in raw horror, his limbs refusing to work even as his mind screamed to help Kaidan. With wide eyes, he was forced to look on in sickening horror as the tentacle dragged Kaidan to the hole in the wall. Kaidan's right leg managed to stand against the wall, providing him with enough support that Thomas would be able to get to him, to save him.

Then the tentacle yanked, and bones broke and crunched in Kaidan's right leg, bending it up along his upper body while his armor was torn at the hip, plates of ceramics cutting bloody gashes into his flesh. Even more blood gushed out, covering the entrance to the hole in a wide smear of thick liquids.

Kaidan had stopped screaming.

Then he was gone.

* * *

**Yeah, so... that happened.**


End file.
